


The die is cast (alea iacta est)

by schrodingerstheory



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, James Potter Being an Asshole, M/M, Minister for Magic Tom Riddle, Minor Character Death, No war, Not Canon Compliant, Not Hermione Friendly, Parent-Child Relationship, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, The Black Family live their dark lives, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 143,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrodingerstheory/pseuds/schrodingerstheory
Summary: In the world where Tom Marvolo Riddle becomes Minister of Magic and Albus Dumbledore secretly builds a resistance movement, Hadrian Castor Potter, second son of James and Lily Potter, feels alone and deprived of his heritage. Especially when no one believes him and in him. Hogwarts is like a vision of safe heaven but Dumbledore’s obsession with a prophecy grows, and soon political conflict will get more and more hostile.The perspective of difficult decisions, hard choices and conflicts is overwhelming, and there will be the time when Hadrian would face a point of no return.Alea iacta est, like said Julius Caesar.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Comments: 225
Kudos: 840





	1. Ab initio

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, Reader! Enjoy yourself ;)
> 
> To clarify: 
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter or any right to it. This text is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment.  
> I'm not a native speaker. English is my third language, so I'll be grateful for pointing out anything my beta or I missed.

_Don’t lie, Hadrian._

Those words were the bane of his existence. He didn’t remember when exactly everything started but it slowly grew into _this_. He couldn’t name it, didn’t know what it was, and asking was not an option anymore. 

The first time he asked what those strange smells were, his mother looked at him in surprise and told him that dinner didn’t smell funny at all and she was testing new spices. It wasn’t it. It didn’t smell like dinner in their kitchen, more like flowers. Hadrian never stopped smelling them from that moment. With time he started linking the smells to people. His father smelled like some kind of wood, his mother like the pink flowers in the back of their garden. Little Anne had a very similar smell but hers was more delicate. His older brother, Charles smelled like the paste for brooms—heavy and a bit like lemons. He tried to tell them but everyone laughed because _oh, yes, Charlie spends too much time polishing his broom and playing Quidditch._ Anne told him it was the new perfume Mummy bought her on their trip to Diagon Alley. That was not it, but Hadrian didn’t want to be ridiculed.

When he asked about the lights and blurry shapes he saw, his mother didn’t take him seriously. Hadrian was told to limit his imagination to his games with other children because, if he continued playing by himself like that and telling everyone of his imagined powers, someone would start making fun of him. He tried to tell her it was for real and she just patted his head telling him to go play with Anne or Charlie. Hadrian tried again with his father. _I am too tired to play with you, Harry. Why don’t you go to your brother? He always loved playing superheroes._ He kept trying to make them understand, and it took a few more mentions specifically about blurry shapes for Hadrian to be taken to St. Mungo’s.

The thing was, his Healer actually believed him from the beginning. He also examined his eyes and Hadrian got a brand new pair of glasses. It only allowed him to see the shape of the blurs more clearly. And it wasn’t as blurry as he thought. More like something invisible in the air, which was curving it around its own shape. It was difficult to describe. When two blurs met, their meeting point was colored. The Healer seemed to be interested and even asked if Hadrian smelled anything strange or felt like something was touching him, so he told him about some people having certain scents.

 _“_ It’s a sensitivity to magic. Some people can smell it, others see it and there were few cases of wizards being able to touch it. But it’s rarely the same. I have a patient who can see magical auras around people and objects. Merlin supposedly could see and touch magic. I remember a girl who could taste magic, that was unusual but not unheard of. It’s not uncommon among pureblood families to have gifts like that. It can be weak and barely there or overwhelming; it doesn’t have to be just one sense affected by it either,” said Healer Boot. “It’s a great gift, magic must really love you.”

His parents didn’t think it was a great gift. When Healer Boot suggested getting him tested more thoroughly, they clung to their belief that Hadrian was lying. Why would he even lie? He didn’t like attention, he didn’t want to be noticed or be special. It just happened to him. Nothing like that mattered to his mother and father, who berated him on the way back. It was humiliating and he felt like he made some spectacle of himself, of which he should be ashamed. He didn’t want to know what Healer Boot was thinking about him now.

“It’s not acceptable to tell people things like that, Hadrian,” his father said. “Healers’ Offices are not places for a kid to mess around. You convinced him enough to believe you. What would happen if we got you tested and it showed nothing? It would make me a laughing stock among the Aurors, son.”

The real damage was done when Charles overheard them talking about it late in the afternoon. He didn’t wait to tell the Weasley twins about Hadrian’s imagination and supposed lies. Being who they were, they couldn’t hold back teasing, so within a week the rest of the Weasleys and even the Longbottoms knew.

“What’s new in the Land of Imagination, Harry?”

“Are you Merlin yet?”

“What have you seen today, Harrykins?”

“Don’t you head to the light, weirdo!”

“Go away, you freak!”

It was awful, so he ended up spending less and less time with them. He wished grandmother hadn’t stopped talking to his parents a year ago. She would know what to do. The only good thing about this whole situation was finding a new hobby—going through the Potter’s library. At first it was because of boredom, and he enjoyed the cool pictures in the books, but then he started to like it more and more. He didn’t find much about magical sensitivity, but there was a surprisingly large amount of books about magical beasts, legends, and plants. It was infinitely better than playing with the Weasleys or his brother.

*

“The lady in the shop looked at me weirdly when she found this book on the shelf for me, so it had better be good. Your present. Catch, kiddo!”

Hadrian almost didn’t catch the book thrown to him. He dropped his _Little Guide To The Most Magical Beasts Of Europe_ to do it, and it fell on the living room carpet. His mother wasn't very happy, because she was already nagging Sirius when Hadrian grabbed the new addition to his ever-growing collection to have a closer look.

“You should be much more careful! Something might have happened, Sirius!”

“Like what?”

“It could have hit Hadrian! You shouldn’t throw books at him!”

Hadrian didn’t pay much attention, for the new book was more interesting. It didn’t look like something about magic, and the plain, white cover wasn’t leather but stiff cardboard. Muggle then. But what did he want with a muggle book? 

He knew his mother was a Muggleborn and the only witch in her family. It must have been boring, because magic was for sure more… more _everything_. He loved magic, anything magical was fascinating and worth his attention. Being around wizards, watching them casting, reading about spells, beasts and stories, and seeing moving pictures was great! So why had Sirius got him a muggle book? The magic in them wasn’t even real. Hadrian had read a bunch of fairy tales when he was younger, and his mother read to him countless times about Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and Peter Pan. He fell asleep very easily from boredom.

 _The Prince._ Hadrian browsed through quickly. His books about the magical world had pictures in them and sentences were short and simple which annoyed him sometimes to no end. He was nine, not stupid. The thought about reading something different excited him and he looked up to ask but Sirius was still occupied by his mother. Moony came to see what was happening so it wasn’t going to end soon. Remus could be even worse than his mother with mothering.

But… the book. It didn’t look like a book for children. Could Sirius have bought the wrong book? He wouldn’t put it past him, Sirius forgot many important things on a daily basis and was quite easily distracted.

 _Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince_ was written on the first page, and under _it The Ends Justifies the Means_. The beginning of the first chapter confirmed the fact that it wasn’t meant for children. Oh, this was bad. He remembered his father getting back from work furious one day, and almost yelling to Sirius and Remus: _They can’t say that this justified the means, Padfood! It’s simply wrong and evil!_

James Potter was a man with a very strong dislike for dark and evil.

Hadrian couldn’t remember how many people were evil and bad or how many things were wrong and forbidden. Too many for sure. He, Charlie, and Anne couldn’t go to grandmother Dorea’s house because The Blacks were sometimes invited there for tea! The Blacks were synonyms of dark and evil in James’ book even though grandmother was a Black until she married grandfather. She hadn’t liked his father saying that or commenting on her books and family, so she still refused to visit them. Hadrian missed his grandma dearly, but he could understand her situation. He wouldn’t like to be constantly insulted either.

He stared at the book. He didn’t want to part with it, just because it was something his father wouldn’t want him to read. The first chapter had looked so promising! It was hard to understand, yes, but he preferred reading one sentence three times than finishing a book in one hour.

“What did you get, Harry?”

“A book about a Prince, Mum. It looks promising!”

When his mother’s face lit up and she started gushing about the adventures of some Little Prince, planets, and really good morals, he didn’t correct her. 

Maybe it was wrong, but it was tiring asking questions and getting told that you were too young or that it was dark and _you should never dabble with dark, Harry!_ That's why he didn't ask about half the things that caught his attention. If he would go on about anything, he would be sent upstairs without dessert or his parents would ground him. It happened a few times, especially after the fiasco with Healer Boot. Also, they never told him why something was dark or why he shouldn't ask.

That was why he preferred grandma. He received a clear explanation for every question. And that was how he knew that his parents didn’t follow traditions, so they didn’t get along with the Blacks and many other pureblood families. To tell you the truth, Hadrian had never met children from families other than the ones his father said were Light. Not that he was a social person at all. He preferred to spend time alone when he had the opportunity to free himself from his older brother and younger sister. It was rarely quiet in the house.

He got up from the sofa and picked up the _Little Guide To The Most Magical Beasts Of Europe_ , slipping _The_ _Prince_ under it. It would be his secret. Nobody looked in his room for things he shouldn't have, because where would he get something like that from?

*

One of Hadrian’s greatest secrets, beside his copy of The Prince and his magical sensitivity, was his aptitude for wandless magic. It’s not like he could do anything more complex than a couple of basic spells, but it was already more than his siblings. They wouldn’t think about it under James’ roof after a big talk about how illegal it was to teach wandless magic and how dangerous something like that could be. 

It started like The Talks often started—with Hadrian’s question, this time provoked by Anne’s first accidental magic. She was seven at the time, which was quite late for the first manifestation of magic, but the Healers always said there was nothing wrong with her and she was for sure magical, if simply late bloomer. A week after her seventh birthday Anne levitated her teddy bear, but when she tried to do it again, nothing happened. Was it possible to control accidental magic and levitate something or summon things with it? James didn’t waste time telling him that it was possible with wandless magic, but it was also difficult and illegal to teach children before they went to Hogwarts. On top of that it was quite dangerous, associated with Dark families and Dark magic, and therefore it fell into the same category as everything dark – _don’t even think about it, Hadrian_.

If someone bothered to ask Hadrian for his opinion, he would have said it didn’t make any sense. Like Machiavelli wrote, _never was anything great achieved without danger_ and it couldn’t be _that_ dangerous. His father was right about one thing only, it was difficult to learn. 

It took hours to make _Wingardium Leviosa_ work, but it was so worth it. Hadrian adored this feeling of accomplishment and pure happiness. Each next spell was a bit easier than the last and the feeling of magic channeling through his body was amazing. Adding to that, he discovered how his magical sensitivity helped in the progress and understood it a bit better. A simple _Reparo_ left repaired things in this distortion of air for a few minutes. With _Wingardium Leviosa_ it left immediately after ending the charm. Could he see spells? Or was it the magic behind them? He tried to make the distortion more clear in shape and the resulting _Wingardium Leviosa_ was so overpowered, it raised his book a lot higher than he intended. It was so amazing, he laughed.

How could something like that be wrong? It was sad that he couldn’t talk about it with anybody at home. Maybe Grandmother, but he hadn’t seen her since Anne’s fifth birthday and that was six years ago. She never wrote to them, maybe because Lily or James would read the post before giving it to any of them. His only hope was Hogwarts. He had prayed to all things above to sort him next month into a different House than his brother’s. Without him Hadrian could finally make friends of his own. With a bit of luck, nobody would call him a liar, prank him, or try to push him around. He had so many questions to find answers for in the library, away from his family’s watchful eyes. It was comical how eager he was to break most, if not all, of the Potter’s rules. 

For all of the Marauders stories told to them by James or Sirius, Charles and Anne were surprisingly good at following rules while still being loud troublemakers. On a good day Hadrian could avoid being pranked but from time to time they got him anyway. It wasn’t harmful. He could live with pink hair or chocolate charmed to taste like dirt. What rubbed him the wrong way was Charles gloating about tripping some Slytherins back in Hogwarts or destroying a second year Hufflepuffs’ homework by putting a dungbomb under their table. It was unnecessarily mean. James and Sirius often laughed it off, while Lily didn’t want to hear about it. She never openly said it was bullying but Hadrian couldn’t see it differently. His brother’s pranks in Hogwarts made him a bully, and while James and Sirius assured him it was fine because it was just for laughs, it was not.

*

Their mother took them to London on September 1st, because their father had to be at work early. James worked a lot, often long hours into the night. They were used to it at his point, so it wasn’t disappointing for Hadrian, but Charles looked let down. Anne was making a fuss again about wanting to go to Hogwarts now, not next year. She did it every year since Charles started school and it only became more embarrassing each time.

Hadrian ignored most of his mother’s standard speech about not making trouble and being good to each other because now they were going to be close. Physically, maybe, but Hadrian didn’t plan on going to his brother for advice. Being as far as it was possible from each other would be more preferable. And the part about not making trouble? If he could roll his eyes… 

“And Harry, try to make a lot of friends. Someone you can talk to or invite over. I know you don’t like Ron, but Neville is really wonderful and sweet. How about sitting with him in the train? It’s good to have a familiar face around you,” she said.

“I will try, mum. Maybe I will meet somebody new?”

“For sure, sweetie, but be careful about it.”

He agreed only to ease her mind and said his goodbyes. He knew he didn’t like Neville very much also, he lacked backbone and was painfully shy. Longbottom wasn’t as bad as Ron, or Charlie teamed with twins, but he always stood behind their backs, staying silent. It was almost like he was afraid of being the next target. It irked Hadrian.

The train ride to Hogwarts turned out not to be as magical as his parents made it to be. He successfully avoided sitting with anyone he knew, only saying hi in passing to the Bones heiress and her friend, and found an empty compartment of his own. He wasn’t alone for long though. He had just got to the second chapter of his new book when a boy with combed back dirty blond hair opened the door.

“Hello, are those seats free? The compartments are mostly full so my friend and I don’t have anywhere to sit.”

“Hi, sure, why not?” Hadrian was awarded a wide smile.

He instantly noticed their high-quality robes and shared aristocratic facial features, with both sporting the same high cheekbones and Roman noses. The second boy had different coloring with straight black hair reaching his shoulders and a darker skin but they could be distant family. All of the purebloods were somewhat related and Hadrian didn’t think they could be Muggleborns. He knew he looked fairly similar himself.

“Anthony Goldstein, heir to the Noble House of Goldstein,” the boy introduced himself and extended his hand, having taken a seat opposite him. “And this is Michael Corner of the Noble House of Corner.”

“Hadrian Potter of the Noble House of Potter, well meet,” answered Hadrian and grasped Anthony’s hand. He couldn’t let this opportunity go. Goldsteins were a family of famous Unspeakables. Almost every Unspeakable was in Ravenclaw and this was the House Hadrian wanted to be sorted into. Making friends with him now could be beneficial, but he wasn’t good at that. If one of them turned out to be a social butterfly or a chatterbox, it would be a miracle.

“Are you reading an Ancient Runes textbook?” Michael Corner asked. Thank Circle.

“Yes, I find them really interesting. I know we won’t start it until the third year but I already read a book or two about Runes and it’s such a broad subject. It’s amazing, and there isn’t anything you can do with spells that can’t be done with Runes,” he told them, honestly fascinated with the possibilities. He hadn’t tried activating any Runes but was curious to see if his magical sensitivity would make it easier.

“Are you planning on being sorted into Ravenclaw?”

“I mean, I would love to. I don’t think I will be sorted into Gryffindor.”

“Potters are usually in Gryffindor, aren’t they?” asked Anthony, sounding curious. Older families tended to be sorted in the same House.

“My parents were. And my grandfather, but my grandmother’s family always landed in Slytherin.”

“Really? I can’t imagine a Potter marrying someone from Slytherin!”

“I believe it was a small scandal, but my grandmother was a Black, Dorea Black. She isn’t from the main line so maybe that’s why it isn’t well known.”

“Probably. My great-grandmother was a Black, I’m curious what our relation—”

“Anthony is a bit obsessed with finding family relations and possible cousins since he is an only child. Don’t tell him more because he has this huge genealogy book with family trees and he will find you there,” teased Michael and Hadrian laughed.

“I think I will add to the fire. My godfather is Sirius Black, who is a family friend of House Potter.”

“Oh, I had heard about him from my father! He sometimes works with the Auror Department. Do you want to be an Auror too? I mean, your father is the Deputy Head of the Department right now, and your grandfather was the Head so it’s almost like a family business? Also, let’s call each other by name.”

“Call me Hadrian then. My brother wants to be but I don’t. I think curse-breaking or warding would be more rewarding to me. Even research sounds better.”

It was wonderful, how easy talking with them was. Michael was enthusiastic, he asked a lot of questions and prodded for answers, but wasn’t in any way forceful. Anthony was more subdued but still attentive. Circle, both of them seemed interested in getting to know him and liked reading and learning about new branches of magic. Hadrian hoped they would be in one dormitory because he could see them getting along for seven years of schooling.

The best was that they didn’t laugh when he told them he didn’t have an owl, because he was uneasy with birds. Charles teased him for weeks after their visit to the Eeylops Owl Emporium, where Hadrian didn’t want to touch an owl or let any sit on his arm. Instead of this, Anthony told him about his fear of big dogs and Michael admitted to being terrified of rodents and big bodies of water.

Hadrian was almost jealous of their friendship when they arrived and Hagrid told them to get on the boats. Anthony held Michael’s hand throughout the entire ride without complaining or making any kind of deal about him shaking. They both helped him out on the ground when Michael climbed out, pale and unsure on his feet. Not a single mean sentence was uttered and Hadrian longed for this kind of accepting relationship.

He looked around his year mates. A lot of them were from old families. He knew Ronald Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Hannah Abbott, but he recognized a few more. Malfoy, Greengrass… Crabbe and Goyle, both of whom looked awfully like their fathers. He had seen pictures in the Daily Prophet. Malfoy and Weasley in one year was a sign of many riots to come. One could only hope to avoid them completely, but it was close to impossible when they were stuck in one castle for seven years.

Minerva McGonagall led them to the Great Hall for the first time. She was a tall woman in her fifties, and spoke with a Scottish accent, a no-nonsense tone and assurance that demanded respect and attention. She met all the expectations of a woman who had been arousing fear in many generations of students, and Hadrian thought that disobedience towards her would be really foolish. 

He wasn’t overly in awe about the Great Halls’ ceiling, because of how many times he was told about it. It didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy the astonishment on the new first years’ faces. Michael was stunned into silence and Hadrian could hear Ronald talking about fighting trolls. He couldn’t believe his naivety. Percival Weasley had told him what the Sorting looked like when he asked two years ago, Ronald clearly must have asked someone less believable… like the Weasley twins. It seemed like their idea of a prank.

Some girl loudly announced how she had read in Hogwarts’ History that the ceiling was charmed to look like the sky by the Founders. When he wanted to turn his head, McGonagall cleared her throat, which made him look straight at her. As the Deputy Headmistress, her role was to welcome them and explain how the Sorting worked. While she was doing so, Hadrian focused his eyes on the Sorting Hat, which soon started singing. Colors bloomed almost immediately. He wanted to look at the ceiling, but it would be rude, so he satisfied himself with watching the sorting of Hannah Abbott. When the Hat was put on her head, the disturbance in the air started to appear and then took clear shape. Curious. It meant that the Sorting Hat had to be at least a bit sentient, for it to choose when to use magic.

In the end, he spent nearly twenty minutes on the stool wearing the Sorting Hat and arguing fiercely. It didn’t even consider putting him in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Instead of that, he was stuck in a nasty hat-stall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Nobody told him the Hat was such a noisy chatterbox.

_“Cunning and resourceful, huh? A brilliant mind, but you lack honesty and have a different kind of bravery, for which Gryffindor doesn’t care. Quick wit, I see it. Your love for magic too. A lot of ambition added on top of it.”_

He sure hoped he was as different from the stereotypical Gryffindor as was possible.

“ _You could be truly great in Slytherin, Hadrian. You are meant to be great. It would help you on your way to become magnificent.”_

He simply couldn’t go to the Snake Pit. It was not personal, but his family would probably do what Sirius’ family did to him, even if they wouldn’t admit it to the world and live in denial. While Hadrian didn’t want this kind of trouble, he could admit he would fit there nicely. Maybe the beginning would be turbulent with him being from a Light family, but eventually he could show them he was different. He knew it.

On the other side, he loved learning even for the sake of hoarding all kinds of information. Like Machiavelli stated, _before all else, be armed,_ and Hadrian’s armor was knowledge. He was just so curious! Ravenclaw would be the best. And Anthony and Michael were already sorted there! If only the Sorting Hat would agree with him, his life could be wonderful.

“ _Oh my, you are quite the stubborn fellow, aren’t you? You already decided.”_

Hadrian would prefer to be called determined in reaching his goals but in this case, he would also accept ‘stubborn’. His mother often told him he got it from her.

“ _I see, I see. Well then…_ RAVENCLAW!”

Everybody seemed to be stunned. Professor McGonagall was definitely surprised, Charles and the Gryffindors too. A Potter who wasn’t sorted into Gryffindor? That simply didn’t happen. An astonished Sirius wrote to him a week later, _it could be worse, Pup! Have fun with the nerds and their dusty books!_ If he knew how much worse it could be, he wouldn’t be so blasé about it.

He walked calmly to his new table and sat on a free seat. Anthony and Michael were in front of him and he gave them a wide smile.

“I told you we will be in the same House—” he started but was almost immediately cut off.

 _“_ Why did it take so long? What did you talk about? It was nearly twenty minutes! The longest yet. They told me it was a hat-stall. What other House was considered?” Hadrian had a terrible case of bad luck. He just had to sit beside someone loud, noisy and… full of hair, because that was the first thing he noticed about her. She had a huge dark mess of frizzy curls on her head.

“Because I was arguing Ravenclaw was the best choice for me and the Sorting Hat was stubborn,” he answered irritated because details about Ravenclaw-Slytherin debate were going with him to his grave… or at least he wasn’t keen on letting everybody know.

“A Potter arguing to be put in Ravenclaw. That’s new.” The boy who spoke to him had short brown hair and a plain face. Hadrian was sure he reminded him of someone. “Terry Boot of the House Boot. Call me Terry, please.” Oh, Healer Boot. Maybe his son or nephew?

“Everyone sometimes needs a bit of change,” Hadrian answered and reached over the table to shake his hand. “Hadrian Potter of the Noble House of Potter, well meet. Call me Hadrian.”

“And I am Hermione Granger, I am the first witch in my family.”

“That’s nice.” Hadrian didn’t miss the disdain in Anthony’s reply. Oh, so he might be one of those. His father would flip if he knew that Hadrian introduced himself to a possible blood purist. On the other side, it could be just her manners or lack of those. Hadrian on a good day wasn’t a social butterfly and was a bit awkward with people he didn’t know, but Hermione Granger was something else completely. She tried to quiet them when the Headmaster rose from his chair. Not that there was a need to do that. He exchanged meaningful looks with Anthony and Michael. From the start of the feast to the end, Hadrian heard _I am the first witch in my family_ multiple times with _Professor McGonagall came to explain everything_ and _I am so excited I read through all of the books to be prepared, so I know everything the teachers could ask in the class_. He could understand the excitement of being able to be here and get an explanation of all of the unexplained things happening, but it didn’t go well with any of the newly sorted Ravens sitting nearby.

Adding to this disaster, during their walk to Ravenclaw dormitory Hermione loudly exclaimed how she couldn’t believe that Diagon Alley looked so backward. She couldn’t have chosen a worse time to voice her opinion, because she was talking to Morag MacDougal and Sue Li, a heiress and a second daughter to pureblood families. The girls were already whispering and snickering between them, even before Hermione caught up to them, so her words didn’t help at all.

“It’s not like I already hate her or something,” Mandy Brocklehurst told Hadrian quietly when they were led up the staircase. They’ve met a few times before because her family had an apothecary in Diagon Alley and Hadrian’s mother liked to shop there. “It’s just… She was already rude in the train while searching for Longbottom’s frog, and when she got sorted, she just sat and interrupted Corner to start talking about herself. Was she raised in a barn? She ignored everything and just talked.”

“And she started talking about how the Muggle world was more modern or something. She supposedly couldn’t believe we wrote with quills,” added Michael from the other side. “Just rude. One of those why don’t you just do it like the Muggles. Well… Because we are not?”

“She was a bit too much,” agreed Anthony.

“I am glad she is a girl and won’t be sleeping with us. Are dormitories in Ravenclaw like in Gryffindor?” Hadrian changed the topic smoothly. He had a feeling Hermione would be talked about a lot in the next months. He could use a rain check this time. “Charles told me there’s five beds in each room and it sounds like a mess.” He wouldn’t make a big deal of it, but he couldn’t imagine sharing a living space with so many people after having his own room back home.

“Circle, no. It’s two people in the room. How can anyone in Gryffindor focus?”

Hadrian liked Ravenclaw more and more. Climbing a tight spiral staircase wasn’t ideal when they already had climbed a lot of stairs, but the sight from their tower ought to be beautiful. To enter their common room, you had to answer a logical riddle given by a bronze, eagle-shaped knocker. The one they heard wasn’t hard, so Hadrian wasn’t too worried about not being able to figure out the password. Were the riddles never the same? Did they repeat sometimes or were they similar to each other?

He was sure he adored his new house when he was let inside. It had arched windows, and on the walls were hung blue and bronze silks. The domed ceiling was painted with sparkling stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. Big tables and upholstered chairs covered the floor. And bookcases! The Ravenclaw common room had its own mini-library!

“Look at it!” 

He turned his head when Anthony pointed at something behind him. A white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw sat there looking elegant and graceful. It wasn’t moving, unlike the paintings hung along Hogwarts’ corridors.

“Hello, my name is Penelope Clearwater,” said the Prefect. “I am a Ravenclaw prefect, so I’ll be the one to formally welcome you to your new house. Within Ravenclaw, we welcome and encourage creativity, eccentricity, and individuality. We thrive in academics, so I hope you will uphold our tradition…”

Hadrian knew he shouldn’t do it, but he let his mind wander again, taking in all the magic. The ceiling was saturated with spells because, when he focused on it, beautiful colors bloomed, fading into each other and creating multi-dimensional patterns.

“…and the door next to the statue leads to the dormitories above. You will share your room with one person for seven years and there is no possibility of exchanging. Also, I am sure you noticed our bookcases…”

They were instructed to not bring any books outside and keep them in the dormitory, but Hadrian didn’t mind at all. It was wonderful. Seeing the excitement in his year mates, he felt assured that this was the right place for him. He was curious if any of the books expanded further on magical sensitivity. There was a big chance. Were those titles also available at the school’s library or were they exclusive? He didn’t want to check book by book, but the thought of finding something mysterious here was exciting him even more.

“Hey, Hadrian, you are spacing out, come on.” He was startled by Michael, who looked at him funny. “You sure space out a lot, mate.”

“He also looks like he wants to dive into those books,” teased Terry, but he wasn’t far from the truth. “We are going upstairs. The trunks are already here. Aren’t you curious to see who you are roomed with?”

“Of course I am.”

He climbed the narrow stairs after Anthony and followed him to the first-year boys’ rooms. He hoped they were more spacious than the corridor, which was wide enough for maybe three people.

“Michael! We are roommates and so are Hadrian and Terry. Are we going to meet in our room tonight and get to know each other more?”

“If you want to?” Hadrian shrugged. “I am not tired and it’s Friday anyway, so we don’t have to be awake early.”

“Just let me put my outer robe away, I’m starting to get hot. Do you think we have to share the bathroom?”

“Father told me every room has its own bathroom. It’s just a sink, a toilet, and a shower so it’s not much but sufficient I suppose,” Michael told them. “There should be towels and soap.”

Hadrian opened the door to his room and looked inside. It was modest but didn’t look bare. The sheets and curtains on the two beds were blue with brown details. There were two desks, a pair of wardrobes, a bookcase, a second door and on the wall, three small arched windows.

“Looks like it. Our trunks are beside beds. I don’t have a preference, so we can exchange if you want Terry, but the room’s sides are identical.”

“No, it’s fine as it is.”

Anthony looked over their shoulders.

“It looks like ours. Even the furniture is in the same place. Perhaps they didn’t want fights among the students but they also didn’t say we couldn’t personalize it.”

“…so, an hour and we’ll meet at yours?”

That night Hadrian went to bed late but satisfied. For the first time in years, he met children who were as interested in learning magic as him. It felt wonderful, but he couldn’t help to think it would end soon. Sure, he landed in Ravenclaw but the Weasleys and Charles were still in Hogwarts. Ron and Neville in his year, the twins and his brother in their third. Percy was made prefect this time, but he was never a problem. Quiet, studious and ambitious, he would have made a better Raven than a Lion. If he had to spend time in the Burrow or with the Weasleys, Hadrian often sought out Percival or Charlie Weasley, if he was home from Romania. Bill was fun to be around too, but he was the oldest and was home so rarely, Hadrian didn’t remember when he had seen him last.

The twins would be fun too with their creativity and innovative thinking if they didn’t give in to Hadrian’s brother's borderline cruel prank ideas. The three of them often didn’t think about the consequences and Hadrian didn’t want to be around them much.

Ronald Weasley was a completely different story. Even if Hadrian tried, he couldn’t find any redeeming traits in him. The boy idolized James and Sirius to an unhealthy degree and always copied Charles in everything, so he took his brother’s teasing as an invite to insult Hadrian on many occasions. He was always taunting, laughing at him, teasing, or pulling childish pranks and telling other children mean things about him. Being in different Houses wouldn’t stop it, because they would still meet in the corridors or classes; Hadrian knew Gryffindor shared most, but not all of them, with Slytherin. The prospect of three or four joined classes made him nervous.

What if Ronald started insulting or taunting him about his imaginative friends or things that nobody else saw? Or will outright call him a liar? What if someone believed him? What if it’ll be Anthony, Michael, or Terry? Hadrian liked them and had the impression they liked him too.

And Terry! What was his relation to Healer Boot? Had he heard about the family which berated their child in front of a healer for lying?

He took a few deep breaths. Focus. He needed to think it through. Ronald will for sure do something. _The wise man does at once what the fool does finally,_ wrote Machiavelli and in this situation, Hadrian thought he should be wise. He would eventually tell them about his magical sensitivity. Either they would be good friends and he wouldn’t want to hide it, or at some point he couldn't explain something he had done without them knowing. So… First off he will ignore that idiot. Then if Ronald said anything, he would tell them the truth in private.

But what if they didn’t believe him? He didn’t have much to prove it. Sure, he could tell when something was enchanted, where wards ended, sometimes how many spells were used, how powerful a casting wizard was… But someone could lie about it because how could anyone check that? Maybe there were spells, but Hadrian didn’t know any. Did they know? Probably not since they were first years like him.

He tossed around in bed for a few minutes and settled with laying on his right side, facing the windows and desk. Sometimes he wondered what his life would be like if he were more outgoing and had nothing special about him. Maybe it would be different and he wouldn’t be a friendless nerd, but… How could he give this up? He focused on the walls. The magic interweaved through them was amazing. Purples, reds, blues, and greens were layered and in multiple hues, sometimes yellow or pink would bloom between them. It was oddly absorbing and calming. He didn’t see so much magic in his home, because they didn’t live in an old house. Yes, there were wards or charms on the windows but it was never this intense. Maybe because of Hogwarts’ age? It didn’t have any smell, but adding some powerful scent would be overwhelming. It was perfect the way it was.

*

It took nearly two weeks for Ronald to start something bigger than name-calling in the corridors and the classes they shared. Luckily it was only Charms and History of Magic, but still, it gave Weasley enough time to say something.

Anthony, Michael, and Terry quickly noticed but Hadrian told them it wasn’t new, Ronald always was a mean prick. Michael looked like he wanted to ask something, so Hadrian told them also that he and Weasley knew each other from birth and never got along. It gave him about three days of peace.

At the end of their first week there, a letter from his mother arrived. Sirius and Remus had sent him a shorter one earlier with a scarf in Ravenclaw colours. Remus wasn’t surprised by his sorting like Lily, but both James and Sirius were. They all took it well. However, Hadrian couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he told his family about the possibility of Slytherin. With some luck, Charles wouldn’t tell them about the long hat-stall either and the topic would never come up. At this point, his brother only wrote about Hadrian’s sorting to Ravenclaw. According to their mother, he also wrote to her that he checked on him now and then, but Hadrian didn’t need to call him out on this lie.

Like he thought, he had fallen in love with Hogwarts’ library. It was quiet, big, had books on anything he needed for classes and a lot of places to hide. Logically, he knew that he wouldn't ever find anything really interesting there. Maybe in the Restricted Section, but with Dumbledore as the Headmaster? If James Potter was a paranoiac, then Albus Dumbledore was obsessive. Hadrian overheard a few conversations and one clear instruction on how to deal with some Auror cases, and that was enough to deduce it. There wasn’t a chance for anything deemed even a darker side of grey.

The atmosphere in the library sold it to him. Maybe some parts were dusty and you could find snogging couples in the farthest corners, but there was a slim chance of meeting the Weasleys or Charles there and he could effectively hide somewhere if he piled enough books in front of him. On his fourth visit, he found a round table with five chairs around it in the History of Magic section between the last bookshelf and a wall. Hadrian could tell by the spider webs that it was rarely used. It was a good hiding place for quiet reading and Michael liked it enough to name it _their table_.

Nothing in their classes surprised him. He had already read all of the books and being raised by magical parents he knew the simplest spells. As soon as he got his wand he tried them in the privacy of his room, so his parents wouldn’t know. He didn’t succeed in his first try but successfully managed them after a few times. Nobody in Ravenclaw had problems with casting _wingardium leviosa_ after two classes on the theory behind the spell. Even Hermione cast it right, but she had to tell everybody in hearing distance that she had worked on it on the train.

Hermione turned out to be even more problematic. Nobody wanted to talk to her, yet she always stuck to someone, joined in discussions, or loudly voiced her unwanted opinions. She spoke with conviction and finality in her tone, which made her sound arrogant and overbearing, especially when she was constantly correcting people. It was clear she wanted to be included, but the girls often vanished somewhere and when she caught up with their small group, Anthony or Michael made a point of talking about Quidditch which they knew she hated. It was sad and Hadrian pitied Granger a bit, but he didn’t want to be the one who told her to tone it down after she got offended when Padma and Lisa both told her they would prefer to work on transfiguration alone without interruption.

Potions was the only class where she was remotely silent, but the downside was Snape. Hadrian knew his mother liked Severus and talked with him regularly, he also knew that his father and Sirius hated him with reciprocated passion. It could mean for him to be singled out and questioned, although he didn’t mind this. The fairness of grading would be more of a problem. On the bright side, he wasn’t ignored or shunned when he had met Severus Snape on a shopping trip with his mother, and then absolutely flooded the Hogwarts’ professor with respectful questions about potions and asked for good books for introduction to the subject. Hadrian was nine, but he remembered his stunned expression with clarity.

His fears turned out to be wrong, but Snape was still a harsh, somewhat malicious, and very demanding teacher with high standards. Hadrian heard rumors about the Slytherin-Gryffindor class being a riot and about a big point loss thanks to Longbottom and Weasley. The Huffelpuffs were scared of their first Potions class because of it, but nothing happened and nobody was targeted. Of course, Snape still gave the impression that no one was worth a knut, which must have offended Hermione. Her hand rarely went down, but she was mostly ignored and someone else was called to answer a question. They had to hear about the unfairness of this during lunchtime and Lily Moon rolled her eyes so hard that Morag nearly spat her pumpkin juice.

Defense Against Dark Arts was taught this year by an old, retired Auror. Edward Weiss was a kind muggleborn wizard, who probably had done more paperwork than actually been in the field, but did know what he was talking about. Hadrian heard from Morag, that Quirrell, their Muggle Studies teacher, had wanted to be moved to the Defense position, but the Ministry had pushed for someone with the right knowledge. Dumbledore for sure hated it because Hogwarts was like his kingdom. Hadrian had heard many times that according to Dumbledore and his peers, the Minister of Magic was a dark wizard with a huge following among the British Lords. Well… Tom Marvolo Riddle was a traditionalist and a former Slytherin, so pureblood families behind him shouldn’t surprise anyone. Wasn’t that the point of his campaign three years ago? Magical traditions, tightening the Statue and making the Ministry more efficient among others, if he remembered correctly. It was a close call, but Riddle won despite strong opposition. James was raging about it the whole election. 

Between all of this, it was relatively quiet and peaceful, so he didn’t expect Ronald to approach him with Longbottom, when he, Anthony, Michael, and Terry wanted to use the last warm days of September to spend some time outside.

“Hey, loser! Have you seen anything recently? Or did your mother finally get you a Mind Healer?”

“Leave me alone, Weasley, and go back to wasting your time somewhere else,” he told him because he had seen how Anthony looked at Ronald. There was no need for a fight in the corridor or detentions in the first month of school. He wasn’t here to scrub any trophy rooms.

“Do your friends know how freaky you are?”

“Shut it, Weasley, because I will shut your mouth for you,” said Anthony with venom, he seemed to be fed up with this situation. He held back a lot of times before.

“Yeah? Beca…“

“Yes, because not all of us don’t know how to use a wand, Weasley. I will hex you.” 

Hadrian would believe it with how furious Michael looked. He ought to know some spells. Circle, Hadrian did too but didn’t want to get a howler. Striking back wasn’t worth public humiliation.

Longbottom was quiet, but had tears in his eyes and was clearly unsure. 

“C’mon, Ron. It’s a bad idea…”

“You bet,” drawled Terry with a closed-off expression on his face. Hadrian had trouble believing it was the same shy but friendly boy he shared a room with. “Get lost.”

Ronald wasn’t expecting that reaction. It was clear that he didn’t know what to do. His ears and face reddened horribly, but he didn’t say anything back. The stupid things he usually spewed out made his brother and the twins laugh, so Hadrian’s friends defending him must have been a novelty.

“Stupid freak,” Ronald yelled, and with that, he stormed away embarrassed with Longbottom on his tail.

“What an idiot,” concluded Michael and looked at Hadrian worried. “What was that about?”

“He has been an idiot and always will be one. I will tell you but… maybe not in the corridor?”

They settled by the lake. Michael wasn’t bothered by it if he didn’t have to board a boat or get into the water, so it was a good place for a serious conversation. Students could be seen walking in the distance in small groups or alone, but there wasn’t any chance to be overheard. They would have noticed anyone who would want to eavesdrop immediately.

Hadrian dreaded this moment.

“Well, it’s hard to speak about it, because I had never told anyone all of this.”

The boys looked uncertain, but none of them interrupted him when he spoke.

“When I was really little, I started to smell things. I didn’t know what it was, but I figured out it was connected to the people I was around. My dad smells like oak, my mother like flowers for example. Some people don't have a smell at all like Ronald. I told my mum, but the only response I got was to stop playing around and imagining things.”

Terry appeared to connect the dots.

“It didn’t stop there. Later came colored lights and… It’s hard to describe, but it’s some kind of a transparent blur, or distortion to the air, which sometimes has a clear shape. Those colors can be faint or bright too. Layered, melting into each other, constantly moving or staying in one place like a stain… I mean… it’s like this now, but it got stronger over the years. When I started noticing something was wrong, it wasn’t very clear. I was once again told to stop playing. My mother told me to stop saying those things because kids won’t like me and will think I am weird. My father kind of ignored it as a child’s game. I had to tell my parents multiple times about the blurs and only then did they take me to St. Mungo’s.”

Telling something like this was weird as if he was insulting his family. He tried to leave the bitterness out of his voice, but it was impossible. He had been angry, bitter and had an overwhelming feeling of wrongness for years now.

“I don’t know if there is any family relation, but I met Healer Boot, who told me I was sensitive to magic and explained a bit. Of course, I also got glasses because Potter’s got poor eyesight and it’s almost a rule to be a Potter. Glasses helped with making the shape of those blurs clearer, so that’s a plus. Healer Boot told my parents he wanted me tested for magical sensitivity. They berated me then for lying, telling stories and playing around where I really shouldn’t, apologized to Healer Boot, then dragged me home and grounded me. Father also told me I could’ve embarrassed our family name by stating I had gifts I only imagined I had. Charles heard them talking, figured it’d make wonderful teasing material and told everyone. The twins thought it was hilarious and Ronald is going on and on about my wonderful imagination and lying to this day. Maybe they really think I am a lunatic, maybe they don’t. I don’t care but it’s hard because… Ronald is always telling anyone about how crazy I am. It drove people away. Adding to that, my parents always assume I am not telling the truth.”

A long silence followed his monologue. It caused a sinking feeling in his stomach and his face felt oddly cold. It was awful. Hadrian hated uncertainty and anything unpredictable, with this talk being a stellar example.

“It was my father. I didn’t want to ask when I met you, but… He was furious, you know? Absolutely furious with your parents, because you were a classic example of a child with magical sensitivity. It showed on the scan. It could have been a few things, but magical sensitivity was one of them. And he told my mother you spoke of it in such a way that it couldn’t be a lie.”

Hadrian didn’t know what to answer. Healer Boot had believed him. Healer Boot knew he was not a liar or a crazy child with a wild imagination. It was oddly wonderful to hear someone was angry on his behalf. Looking at his… friends right now, Healer Boot wasn’t the only one.

“So… Do you see wards…?”

What?

“Michael!”

“What?! I like wards.”

It was so ridiculous, Hadrian snickered and then burst into laughter.

“Look! Now he’s laughing! The atmosphere was too grim for my taste.”

Michael was still grinning like a loon when Anthony pushed him on the grass.

*

“So, are you saying that when my parents made Sirius my godfather, they strengthened my connection to the Black family?”

“In essence, yes. But I know there is more to it,” answered Anthony. “It would be helpful to have a book I remember reading to show you, but it’s not the kind of book Hogwarts would have. It was written in an entrance to family rituals.”

“Hogwarts’ library for sure doesn’t have any books about rituals,” added Michael. “But maybe family magic?”

“What family would allow Hogwarts to have books about their family magic?” Terry shot this idea down quickly. “We know which talents to associate with which families only because nobody hides them. Talents that’s it, for sure not how to control or use them.”

“My parents don’t have anything useful. My father doesn't follow traditions, so he has no use for rituals. My mother is a Muggleborn and never was accustomed to traditional ways nor did she want to be. I would love to know more, but I told you about my father’s obsession with dark magic.”

“And the Potter Manor?”

Hadrian looked at Terry and nearly scowled.

“Maybe, but it’s out of reach. Grandmother resides there as the Regent Potter and she hadn’t contacted anyone in the family since my sister’s fifth birthday. That was six years ago. I don’t know what father must have told her, but it hit hard.”

“Did you write to her?” asked Michael.

“Not that I could, living with my parents in Godric’s Hollow. They check the mail, even Charles’ letters. Everything that comes in or is sent. I don’t think they would let me borrow the family owl, let alone ask grandmother about family magic or something they think I made up. Father is really paranoid and my mother would say that the concept of branches of magic, which are only genetically inherited and cultivated in pureblood families, is racist.”

For a few minutes, the only sound was that of pages turning. They were sitting at their table in the library. Everyone had already completed the assigned homework, but being Ravenclaws it meant it was time to study more interesting topics.

Currently, they were feeding Anthony’s fascination with family relations and how it corresponded with Hadrian’s gift. It only showed how much his knowledge in this matter lacked and that was impossibly irritating. His parents had deprived him of a big part of his heritage. It was all the harder to swallow because he had little idea how to learn about it. He found one book about magical sensitivity in the whole of Hogwarts, and it wasn’t useful!

“I will have to buy some books,” he decided. “Do you have any titles in mind? I’ll borrow a school owl and place an order. One thing I don’t lack is money. We have a monthly allowance in our personal Gringotts accounts, but it was hard to buy anything interesting when my mother looked over my shoulder. So it must have accumulated over the years.”

“I remember one or two, but I can write to my father to recommend something,” offered Anthony and Michael nodded. “Maybe I will ask him to send me some? He wouldn’t ask questions. I think he is secretly proud of my interest in traditions and magical families.”

“That would be amazing.”

“Hey, what do you think would happen, if you wrote to your grandmother now?” asked Terry suddenly. “I mean, nobody would read your letters. We could place a charm that would only allow your grandmother to read it…”

“I don’t know?” Hadrian closed the huge volume he’s been reading, and then rested his head on his hands. “Hopefully she didn’t exclude my name from post wards, but she could do it with Potters’ name as a whole. You know, nothing written by any Potter would go past a ward. It isn’t hard to imagine, because we are the last Potters.”

“You can do that?” Michael was immediately interested.

“I was surprised too, but my mother did it once to Professor Snape when he pissed her off. She tried to arrange a dinner party, but Sirius, Father and Snape lasted only an hour without insulting each other. She excluded the whole name because Snape’s mother was still living.”

“I still can’t get over it. Your mother is the childhood friend of Professor Severus Snape! He is just so… so…”

“…pissy, sour, strict, scary, gloomy, mean, sarcastic?” suggested Anthony. They all busted into giggles. Nobody wanted to laugh loudly in the library and get thrown out.

“I guess he’s nicer to mother or she’s just used to it. I mean, I met him once for a longer period of time and he wasn’t bad. He’s a really great potioneer and an inventor. Mother advised me to think of him as a prickly cactus.”

“P…prickly cactus!”

They all cast silencing charms, because nobody could hold their laughter any longer. Hadrian was positive he never laughed that much. Sirius always wondered how Lily and James could have such a serious child. Remus sometimes joked that Sirius was just so unfunny, he couldn’t make him laugh. It always led to long bickering that actually made him smile from time to time, which usually provoked Sirius to more ridiculous wailing.

“You know, I’m not sure if I want to try writing to her,” said Hadrian, when they calmed down. “I would love to hear from her, but I don’t really know her and I am not sure what to write.”

Michael shrugged.

“I have no idea, but maybe something along the lines of… My parents are acting like Muggles. They underestimate nearly everything I am experiencing and I need help from someone dependable with knowledge, so help me?” That got him a nudge in the shoulder from Anthony and a disapproving look from Terry. “What. It’s not like that would be a lie.”

“Well… It wouldn’t be, but I don’t know how I feel about telling grandmother that her son is being ignorant and it’s causing trouble. It was hard telling you, guys. It’s even harder to tell somebody, who can actually do something,” he admitted. “What if she told him about the letter? I don’t really know what father would do, surely he’d be beyond furious. I could ask her to keep it secret, but would she? It’s too much of the unknown for my comfort.”

“It’s crazy,” commented Anthony. “You only want to know about your family magic, traditions and a little bit about common rituals. It’s not like they didn’t use any in their lives, because if you have your godfather recognized by Gringotts they had to use one. I could understand being this sneaky about… I don’t know… Dark, blood rituals dealing or necromantic artifacts or if you wanted to try random curse breaking in the ancestral home attic.”

“I told you, my father is paranoid about anything that’s dark. And dark has his own definition, optionally Dumbledore’s when it comes to this conviction about lurking dark lords. And my mother is this kind of Muggleborn who doesn’t care about tradition, only about magic. She’s a Potion Master, she doesn't have to know it, has no interest in it, so she won’t. I will have to do it myself.”

“Well, not by yourself, because we’ll help,” said Terry with a smile. “It’s not like we know everything too. It’s not expected yet, but we will have to learn it before we become Lords or heads of our families. The rest comes with living in this culture, so it’s common knowledge.”

Hadrian pondered a bit about this. If it was true, then he had time to learn about important customs. Maybe there was a way to worm into those lessons. This would take a lot of careful lying to his parents. It was another problem. It wasn’t like he hadn’t omitted the truth in his life. He did, on more occasions than he could count. But he hadn’t walked up to his parents and lied to them inventing a completely false story. It wouldn’t be easy. With the attitude they had so far, his parents would be careful with trusting him and looking for things to call him out on. It will take some planning. He had to think about it more because like Cicero advised, _before beginning, plan carefully._

“I don’t even know how much I don’t know.” Hadrian sighed when they were putting away their books a few minutes later. They wanted to be at the feast earlier to avoid the crowd by the Great Hall entrance. Why did Michael feel the need to drag eight books about magic mushrooms from the other end of the library to their table? “It’s a frustrating thing. I only know about etiquette because I got bored and we had like… three big volumes on it. Mother often nagged us to learn how to behave correctly, so I thought it was important.”

“And now you don’t act like Granger!”

“Michael, even if I didn’t read those books, I wouldn’t behave like her. I don’t make a sport out of offending people, being offended that I offended someone, then being offended that nobody wants work with me and saying they’re bigoted. If she toned it down and didn’t sound so arrogant and standoffish, she would be much more likable, because she is intelligent and resourceful which guarantees a nice study partner.”

Someone must have heard it because something dropped and the loud thud made everyone jump. Surprised, nobody moved. They heard a commotion and then fast steps moving away to the front of the library.

“Do you think it was her?” asked Terry standing up where he had been crouching at the lowest shelf. He looked out from behind shelves to catch a glimpse of whoever it could be. “I doubt someone else would just drop their stuff and run away.”

“Well, at least she heard Hadrian who was nice and not the girls.” Anthony rolled his eyes at Michael.

“I think she knows what girls think about her… or she is more delusional than we think she is.”

“I doubt she knows everything they say about her, but she might have an idea. Morag, Sue, Lisa or Lily don’t exactly hide their snickering. Only Padma tries, but her patience wears short sometimes.” Hadrian looked at his friends when he had put the last volume in the right place. “I think anyone would figure it out if they wanted to. Maybe she doesn’t.”

*

As it turned out, even if Hermione had heard them in the library, they forgot about it quickly, because something unexpected happened. Who would have thought that a troll would be found in dungeons? And why was a fully grown troll in Hogwarts in the first place?

“Somebody had to let him in,” said Anthony. They were sitting at the Ravenclaw table because Weiss told them to stay in the Great Hall. The tables were empty except for biscuits and tea, which was quite funny. They were having a tea party, while their Defense professor was hunting down a big troll with Flitwick and Hagrid.

Terry nodded. “Of course. Trolls are slow and stupid. They don’t swim, climb anything high or sneak. Do you think they will call the Aurors?”

“It’s possible. I mean, Professor Weiss is a retired Auror. He knows it should be reported and somebody should check how it got here…” … _and he’s not one of Dumbledore’s people,_ but that Hadrian left unsaid. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he already sent for them.”

It was quite boring if Hadrian was to be honest. They were safe and had nothing better to do than chatting… Some of them went to sit with their friends or siblings from different Houses, but Hadrian had no desire to sit with Charles when he was surrounded by the Weasleys, so he just looked around. He hoped classes won’t be canceled for the next day… Wait.

“Have any of you seen Granger?” he asked. Everyone in his hearing range turned to him… And then looked around in tense silence.

“Sweet Circle,” muttered Michael. “I remember her being with us in Charms, but later?”

“She ran to the bathroom near the classroom crying because Weasley yelled something rude at her…” Lily Moon told them. She sounded a bit panicked. Everyone was getting more and more nervous. “Are you sure she’s not sitting with someone from a different House? I saw her talking with Hopkins and Jones earlier this week.”

Anthony stood up and looked at the Huffelpuffs’ table. Morag was already doing it and Sue Li scanned their own table carefully, in case they missed her.

“I don’t see her.” His face was grim. All traces of laughter were gone. “It’s hard to mistake somebody for her because of her crazy hair. What will we do? Professor Flitwick is outside with Professor Weiss.”

“We have to tell someone, that’s what we are going to do,” Hadrian said and didn’t waste more time to stand up. It’s not like the Charms classroom was in the dungeons, but close enough if somebody wanted to take the longer way to the Great Hall to calm themselves down or hide.

With Anthony on his heels, he walked quickly to McGonagall, who was sitting with Snape at the teacher's table. He could feel the eyes of the other students focusing on him as he climbed the stairs to the podium. It was stressing him out, but he couldn’t just sit and do nothing when Granger was somewhere in the castle not knowing about the danger. He would feel awful if he hadn’t reported her missing.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Goldstein, what happened?” asked McGonagall before they even walked up to them.

“We found out Hermione Granger is not in the Great Hall, Professor,” he told her without hesitation, but he worded it carefully. “She’s a bit of a... loner. We thought she sat somewhere else, but we checked other tables and she’s not here. Not our table, not any other table. Lily Moon told us she saw her hide in the bathroom by Charms’ classroom because Ronald Weasley was really rude to her, but it was about two hours ago.” Throwing Weasley under the Knight Bus was a nice touch.

The Great Hall was silent. Deadly silent.

“Is Miss Granger here?” she asked very loudly, but there was no answer. “Is there anyone else missing?” followed then.

“Cho Chang, second-year Ravenclaw, but she’s in the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey wanted her to stay the night!” yelled someone Hadrian vaguely recognized from their Quidditch Team.

“Adrian Pucey from Slytherin. There was an accident in Potions and he is staying in Hospital Wing as well,” a Slytherin Prefect said.

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Goldstein, you can go back to your table,” Professor McGonagall told them with short, clipped words. “Ten points each for awareness and your quick reaction.”

Hadrian didn’t know if she was angry because Ronald Weasley was from her house, or worried about Hermione. The student body observed from their seats as the Professors talked quickly between themselves. Soon McGonagall, Snape and Vector left, for sure to search for the girl. Dumbledore had vanished somewhere, Hadrian didn’t even notice when, but he didn’t care much.

“Do you think they will find her?” asked Morag quietly. “I don’t like her, but I don’t wish her dead.”

“Of course they will,” assured Sue. Around them, the chatter picked up again, but the atmosphere in the Hall was still tense.

“Professor Snape is also a licensed Mediwizard,” added Hadrian to calm them down a bit.

“Really?”

“Yes. You have to be at least a licensed Mediwizard in order to supply Hospitals with healing potions,” added Terry. “You can have a Healing Mastery too, but it takes more time, so often if someone doesn't want to be and work as a Healer, they’ll just get a license instead.”

“Do people often have multiple Masteries in Britain?” wondered Padma.

“I think yes... if the fields are similar or have much to do with each other. Healing goes with Potions, Dueling, Charms or Transfiguration goes with Defense… what else…”

“Herbiology with Potions or Magizoology,” Michael added to Terry’s enumeration.

“Ancient Runes with History… I am sure there is a lot more of it, but it comes to my mind first,” said Anthony. “Magical Theory is needed in multiple branches of Magic… Wards or Arithmancy.”

“I can’t think about one serious job, which can be done without either a Mastery or some kind of training program,” stated Lily Moon. She was a bit calmer and her voice didn’t shake anymore. “It takes a lot of time and money.”

“Having a family name behind you doesn’t hurt. My brother was studying under a Master who refused to take an apprentice without… a good name,” Morag told them.

They shared stories about Masteries heard from family members because it was better than sitting in uncomfortable silence. Nobody was really calm, but it wasn’t so bad when they could distract themselves from thinking too much. There were few laughs heard over the constant chatter.

Slowly it was getting late. Hadrian was a bit tired, but he had no idea how much longer it could take. Had anything happened to Granger? Was she hurt? It was rather morbid curiosity. Maybe he should feel bad about the whole situation, but he couldn’t. They weren’t required to watch over her. No one could have predicted that something like this would happen. It was the school that should have provided better protection.

Suddenly the doors opened and McGonagall entered the Great Hall. Beside her were Vector and Flitwick.

“Students, follow your Prefects straight into your common rooms. Everything is under control, the Troll was captured by Professor Weiss. Miss Granger is currently in the Hospital Wing and will join you tomorrow. Miss Clearwater, a word, please.”

“The Hospital Wing?” Anthony looked at them with a smile. “For sure nothing big happened because she would be immediately transported to St. Mungo’s. Maybe she just fainted.”

“Who knows. They don’t have to tell us,” muttered Terry. “I am showering first.”

Hadrian looked at him and shrugged.

“I have to finish the last chapter anyway.”

“Why can’t you be less problematic like Hadrian?” Michael whined to Anthony. “You’re always arguing about stupid things like that.”

“Not everyone can be perfect,” said Hadrian in the sassiest way he could, which made everyone laugh quietly.

In the end, Hermione wasn’t changed by the incident with the Troll. She became even more persistent. In their next Herbology lesson, she didn’t let anyone answer Sprout’s questions and she became almost intolerable in Transfiguration. Her hand didn’t stay down, at some point she even began waving it to get noticed. Nobody in Hogwarts raised their hand in classes, so she stood out. Some of the Professors didn’t mind, but Snape? He tore into her and took ten points from Ravenclaw.

“Sweet Circle, she’s impossible,” mumbled Michael when they were climbing the stairs. “Did you see how angry she looked when Professor McGonagall ignored her hand and asked Morag? What is she trying to prove, that she is better than us or something?”

“I don’t know, but I didn’t get a chance to ask about the use of Mandragora leaf. I was confused by the textbook and in _1000 curious uses of magical plants_ they wrote something different. She was talking to Professor Sprout after the class ended,” responded Anthony.

Hadrian didn’t have much to say. It irritated him, yes, but what could he do? He wasn't going to hex or curse her. He couldn’t say the same about his classmates though. No one spoke to her since she had come back from Hospital Wing. Hermione hadn’t been in their common room ten minutes before complaining to Padma Patil, that although the Aurors were called, everything was deemed an accident by a young Auror straight from training. She was sure if she was a pureblood or half-blood, it’d be a huge scandal. 

Hadrian didn’t completely disagree, but it all would depend on which family and how bothered they would be. He wouldn’t go as far as calling everyone pureblood and the system racist like Hermione did quite loudly. Older students nearby stopped looking at her so sympathetically from this point forward, and gossiping ran wild. Some of them seemed offended, but Ravenclaw weren’t a confrontational bunch. Ravenclaw excluded and ignored. It was much more effective with younger students because no one could stand being ignored for too long. It hurt a lot more. 

Akilah Shafiq from the second year, who had started including Hermione in her small study group, made sure that there was no chair for her to sit and began to choose the smallest possible table. Shafiq's best friend Annalise McCartney-Turpin was acting polite, but never let Granger follow them to the library. Some of the excuses sounded as false as it could get without being ridiculous. Not everyone was this nice because another study group member Hubert Burke told her that she clearly wouldn’t want to spend time with pureblood supremacists, so she shouldn’t sit near him anymore. Surprisingly Granger hadn’t cried in front of everyone.

“How about we just ignore her? It’s not like she will be the only person talking the whole school year. They’ll start losing patience…“ he assured them.

“I am beginning to wonder when Padma Patil will lose her patience. They are roomed together, aren’t they?” inquired Terry.

“I heard from Morag, that she’s spending a lot of time in Morag and Sue’s room. Lily said she’s often visiting Mandy, Lisa and Lily in theirs too. They don’t mind, because Padma is really cool.” Anthony was well informed as always. He was one of those people who truly loved good networking and took pride in knowing who did what with who and when.

“I don’t know if Granger hadn’t realized yet that she’ll be here for seven years. If she makes everybody hate her, she’ll end up entirely alone,” Terry commented dryly. “Nobody is meant to be alone.”

No, nobody was meant to be alone. Hadrian couldn’t imagine being left completely alone or being constantly ignored. It was hard enough without anyone to talk to honestly without judgment. He was sure you could go crazy from loneliness. Crazy or really, really depressed and jaded by life. It was a sad thing to think about.

He startled when Anthony touched his arm. He, Michael and Terry tended to do that when his mind drifted away too much from their conversation or he was too pensive.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you thought about ordering those books we talked about.”

Anthony sent his father a letter, in which among others he asked for recommendations or books about purebloods’ traditions, customs and family magic. It took two days for him to reply. To Hadrian’s amazement, he had owled Anthony not only a short list of the best books and the owl address of a bookstore which would have them but also a _Compendium of Rituals, Curiosities of Family Magic and Traditions_ written by Cetus Atria Lestrange. James Potter would flip, but Hadrian was delighted. Even more when Anthony said he shouldn’t worry about returning it, because it was a very popular book between pureblood families and in the letter his father clearly stated it was nothing. To Hadrian, it meant a lot.

“I think I’ll do it tomorrow. Do you… Will you go with me to the owlery?”

“Sure. I’ll be your prince charming and catch you an owl. I’ll even sacrifice myself and send it for you,” Michael announced dramatically. “Can I be your prince, Hadrian dear?”

“Yeah, can he be your prince?” Oh no, Hadrian knew these voices.

“Can _I_ be your prince, Harry?”

“Maybe you need…”

“…two or three princes…”

“…oh, maiden Hadrian…”

“Do tell us…”

“Will you let us serve you?”

“All day…”

“…all night…”

“…whole year…”

“…maybe life!”

 _Have patience. All things are difficult before they become easy_ , wrote Saadi of Shiraz, but Hadrian had lost his patience for their teasing a long time ago. Especially when it embarrassed him.

“Fred, George. If you want to serve me, I will allow you…” He turned around to them. The twins were standing in a small, probably abandoned corridor. “But your first task is to leave me alone.”

“No can do, Harrykins!”

“You are simply too fun to ignore, sunshine!”

Michael snickered at this. Et tu, Brutus? Anthony was smiling too.

“What are you even doing here? Are you… hiding?” Hadrian raised his brow while looking at them doubtfully.

“Us? Hiding?”

“Completely not.”

“We? Hiding! Such a preposterous idea!”

“Then what are you doing in an abandoned corridor?” asked Terry in a flat tone.

“Heard that firstie, Gred?”

“Such insolence, Forge!”

“Fred, George, I see you!” Hadrian easily recognized the voice of Lee Jordan.

“Harrykins, remember, it wasn’t us!”

“Nobody was here!”

They bolted into the old corridor, leaving them confused. The twins always were surrounded by chaos and confusion, when it wasn’t the yells of pranked people. Lee Jordan often was as much their partner in crime as he was a victim. This time he ran past them and after the Weasleys without a word.

“So… they were Ronald’s brothers,” said Anthony, clearly amused. “They aren’t that bad.”

“When they are without Charles they’re just irritating, but with him, they can be a bit cruel… or a lot. I sometimes wonder if people won’t want to take it out on me because of their… pranks.”

“I sure hope not, because then you would need more than one prince charming, sunshine,” sing-songed Michael.

“Oh, shut it.”

They laughed anyway.

*

Hadrian was a bit touched when Michael sent his letter with the book order while he stood in the owlery door behind Terry. Owls made him really uncomfortable. He didn’t like the suddenness of their moves or their sharp claws, and the beak also wasn’t his favorite part, but he could admit they were beautiful and majestic. He just preferred admiring them from a healthy distance. 

“How long do you think it would take?” asked Terry when they came down from the tower. They had a lot of free time on Wednesdays and Hadrian sometimes thought he would drown himself in books if he hadn’t had Anthony, Michael, or Terry. It was Anthony or Terry who insisted on breaks or small walks. Michael often dragged him into discussions about something he had recently found to be interesting or whined until Hadrian played chess with him. He couldn’t lock himself in his room and read all the time, but they also left him space to breathe. He felt comfortable with their easy affection and attentiveness. Hadrian wasn’t expected to suddenly be someone else like it sometimes was with his family.

“I don’t know? Maybe two or three days? Maybe longer if they don’t have something in stock. I requested a shrunken package, so it’s not going to look huge when the morning post comes. I honestly can’t wait.”

“Don’t tell me that you finished the compendium…” Anthony looked a bit disturbed by this thought, he couldn’t believe how fast Hadrian read everything he got his hands on.

“No, because… I need something more basic. The author assumes that the reader already has basic knowledge. Sometimes I feel impossibly stupid when I don’t understand something.”

“He’s really grumpy when that happens,” added Terry. “I once thought he was going to throw his ink bottle at the wall, but instead he started brooding while looking into space.”

“It’s calming,” he explained. “I don’t see magic nonstop, but when I focus, everything comes into life. Hogwarts’ walls are saturated with magic, so it’s a multitude of colours and hues, all with different intensity in multidimensional patterns. It calms me down. Wards around the castle are pretty magnificent too. A bit like the northern lights, but more… condensed. “

“When you talk like this, I pity myself for not having a chance to see it too,” Anthony told him and Michael nodded, but they didn’t seem jealous. Neither did Terry. They had their talents. Anthony had an astonishing aptitude towards Transfiguration. He understood the theory behind it like no one else Hadrian knew. Michael was a fantastic brewer, so was Terry, but Terry didn’t possess Michael’s innovative instinct. Instead, Terry was amazing with numbers. He already had tutors in Arithmancy and told them he wouldn’t take this elective, because it wouldn’t help him with anything. Hadrian would trade his magical sensitivity for such a useful gift. When he said it once aloud, they had nearly buried him under the sheer number of fields in which magical sensitivity could be really helpful. Terry earnestly encouraged him to pursue Runes and showed him more advanced books than the few Hadrian had read so far. It turned out that Hadrian had barely touched the basics of the theory, reading only about applications, names and history, which opened his eyes to new possibilities and got him thinking more seriously about warding.

“At least you aren’t a health hazard during Potions,” he replied, which earned him a short laugh. He had to try harder, because of Snape’s high expectations, but his tendency to drift away into his mind during brewing was sometimes a call for disaster. Anthony, who was his partner during the class, often had to watch for it and bring him back to the present. Once he was startled so badly by Anthony’s touch on his arm, that he dropped in a lot more salamander eyes than he should have. Snape must have been observing them because he was by their table in a second. What was weird was that he didn’t take off points, but told Hadrian to add twice as much lacewing flies to balance the potion. From this time, Hadrian frequently felt Snape’s eyes on him but wasn’t called out on anything.

Snape must have told his mother about his wandering mind though because she mentioned it in her next letter. She wasn’t very worried but asked if something was troubling him. Hadrian wrote her back, saying everything was good and nothing happened, he was just tired because he studied a lot. It was a good cover story because he had no idea how to tell her that he always tended to do that, she just hadn’t noticed.

“Hadrian, I can’t believe I didn’t ask!” said Michael out of the blue. “Do we have a scent?”

Anthony seemed ten times more interested than before, so did Terry.

“Well…” he began, leading them towards the Greenhouses when they stepped on the ground floor. “Terry smells a lot like lavender. It’s not overwhelming, but palpable. Anthony’s smell is heavier and I can’t tell exactly what it is, but it reminds me of my mother’s essential oils that she keeps at home, but at the same time it’s a bit minty. Michael’s reminds me of summer’s day. I can’t put a finger on it, but sometimes it’s more of a vibe or feeling than a smell.”

They were Ravenclaws, so they noticed immediately.

“More of a vibe or feeling? Is it something new?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I don’t recognize the smell and my brain connects it with something similar or associates ... Anyway, do you want to repeat the previous lesson before Herbology?” he asked, because one, they were in the open, and two, he didn’t want to talk about what it was, when he even couldn’t name what he was experiencing. He hadn’t met anyone who would associate with something he knew in such a way. It was puzzling.

*

  
The next few weeks were as uneventful as learning of magic and wizardry could get. Sometime around the middle of November, Anthony hexed Ronald with jade green hair and big teeth, when Weasley called Hadrian a crazy hag. It cost them five points from Snape, who was nearby, but then Anthony got awarded ten in Potions for a good chopping technique, which made the rude Gryffindor red with anger and Michael smile widely into his cauldron. The whole situation seemed to push Ronald towards trying to curse them in the corridors. He wasn’t very good at it, but soon enough he managed an effective stinging hex. Terry responded with a jelly legs charm, and after that they decided to learn some type of shield spells. It was easier to research than to learn, but all of them could conjure the basic form of a shield before Yule break.

“Mother celebrates Christmas at home,” Hadrian told them after they found a free compartment. “Father doesn’t mind. I don’t think any of them believes in the Christian god though. We have a Christmas tree and presents but we aren’t expected to give any to the elders, a bit more festive dinner and that’s it. I don’t think they would mind if someone wasn’t present. Charles was with the Jordans last year, so were Fred and George.”

“So you don’t celebrate Yule like wizards at all?” inquired Anthony with a bit of disgust in his tone. Sometimes he tried to be neutral towards people who didn’t follow wizarding traditions but Muggle ones, in order to not disparage Hadrian’s family, but he hid his aversion quite badly. “Do they believe in Mother Magic and Circle of Life?”

“I don’t think so. They call for Mother or Circle but it’s more a manner of speaking than worship. They don’t participate in celebrations. If not for my grandmother and books your father recommended, I wouldn’t know what Yule is and how wizards celebrate. Father politely refuses any invitation to galas or balls and you know about his stance on rituals. I don’t think he’ll be able to refuse as easily when he’ll become the Head of the Auror Department. My mother really dislikes balls, because once someone told her something rude when she didn’t want to participate in celebrations.”

“Maybe next year I’ll try to invite you all to my family manor,” stated Anthony. “We’ll do everything the old way.”

“I don’t know if my parents will let me,” Michael admitted. “But I can ask and if not the whole Yule break, then maybe part of it.”

“Father and mother work a lot in St. Mungo’s, so I think they’ll be happy that I am not sitting alone in my room,” Terry looked like he liked the idea of them spending a break together. “But shouldn’t we plan something for the summer first?”

“Lughnasadh? My family usually hosts it. Anthony was at our celebration two or three times. I’ll make sure you are invited,” proposed Michael.

“But remember, it’s a big study date with Quidditch, Gobstones, sunbathing or whatever doesn’t sound suspicious,” Hadrian reminded him playfully. It sounded wonderful. “We can use my birthday as an excuse. It’s 31 July after all.”

“We’ll figure out something, so your parents won’t have the slightest idea where you have been, little rebel,” teased Terry.

Hadrian honestly didn’t want to think about the number of lies to lay the grounds, but as Machiavelli wrote, _he who has not first laid his foundations may be able with great ability to lay them afterwards, but they will be laid with trouble to the architect and danger to the building,_ and Hadrian wanted a stable building, which won’t come down onto his head at sight. It had to last a long time.

He had already planned some things to bring up and how they fit into conversations. It was a good thing for once, that his parents haven’t been socializing much with anyone beside big Dumbledore supporters because it limited their ability to catch him red-handed. He doubted his father would want to ask around about his friends, but he was prepared if he knew something he didn’t like about their families.

They had spent the rest of the train ride playing chess, reading or dozing. Hadrian mainly watched Anthony and Michael’s game, lazily advised when Michael asked for a tip, and read Terry’s _100 practical applications of Arithmancy_ over his shoulder. It seemed to be a good book, but he didn’t understand a lot, not being as far in Arithmancy as Terry. He pondered over starting reading on it more seriously next year, so he would be prepared for his third year, but he already knew enough to be aware that it’d be hard to learn by himself. The more advanced calculations looked really complicated, but the theory behind numbers and its applications were simple enough to memorize quickly.

This time, he brought home with him only one book which wasn’t on the curriculum. It was a neutral and overall harmless explanation of celebrations during the year and their roots, written by the ancestor of the Bones’, so his parents couldn’t really say anything bad about it. He could easily say that he was curious about it because of his year mates’ talking and wanted to look into it a bit, so he wouldn’t be left out and irritated about his lack of knowledge. Simple and believable. He didn’t doubt that he would read it quickly, but when he began to get bored he could do homework and learn more Runes. He hoped he could start joining Runes together sometime by the beginning of the summer.

“So… We’ll meet again on the train after New Year. We know our floo addresses, so if anyone gets lonely, sad, angry, bothered, anything, we’ll call each other. Especially you, alright Hadrian?” insisted Terry, when the train started slowing down.

“Alright. If I get lonely or anything, I’ll call someone,” Hadrian promised with a small smile. Terry could be such a mother hen and it only seemed to get stronger with each month of their friendship. “I will even do it, although I hate ash in my mouth.”

“I'm the first in line as your prince!” demanded Michael. The prince charming banter was still brought out, but Hadrian didn’t mind very much when he got used to it. Now he cherished it as their little inside joke. “I’ll even help you with your trunk!”

Hadrian protested a bit, but in the end let Michael levitate his trunk from the luggage compartment to the ground of the platform. However, when he noticed his parents watching, he felt blood rushing to his face. Anthony and Terry couldn’t hold their laughter when they saw his blush.

“Fair Hadrian, here are your belongings,” announced Michael. “Our separation will be a thorn in my heart, but as your charming prince, I can handle this pain.” Yes, milk his embarrassment.

“Oh, be quiet.” He hit his arm and took control over the trunk. “See you soon, you jerk.”

 _See you soon, my prince_ , drowned out the regular _see you’s_ from Anthony and Terry, to his mortification, but he already missed the three of them minutes after he joined his parents, Charles and Anne.

“Why was he calling you his prince?” asked Anne, when they were walking to the apparition point and Hadrian flushed even more.

“It was just a joke, he likes to tease me.” This kind of teasing he could tolerate because it wasn’t coming from a bad place.

“At least he didn't call you his princess,” she pointed out, after maybe two minutes of silence. “Can I be his princess, if you are his prince?”

“Ask him next year in Hogwarts.” Michael would hex him if she really asked that, but there was a chance she’ll forget.

He was side-along disapparated by his mother, holding his trunk handle firmly. He detested this feeling of being squished and pushed through a tight place to the point it was hard to breathe. It made him cry and anxious when he was younger, and he preferred the floo over it, although the dust and ash made him want to vomit. He detested every single method of magical transportation. Even brooms, the wind hitting his face robbed him of breath. Hogwarts’ compulsory flying lessons were dreadful, but he managed to fly the required three circles as slow as Madam Hooch let him. He didn’t plan on mounting any broom from that point to his death, hopefully.

They apparated right before the wards, outside of the property. Mother was letting them in through the gate when his father brought Anne and Charles with him. Hadrian furtively looked at the wards around their house. They seemed stronger than ever, felt more powerful, and the purple color in them was much clearer. Did father add more? They were already much stronger than the wards around most of the magical houses he visited, the Burrow for example.

“Go unpack, boys,” his mother told them. “And then I made some spaghetti, so we can eat together. I invited Remus and Sirius.” 

Ugh, spaghetti. Not that Hadrian minded Italian pasta, but the sounds his family made while eating… It was disgusting. In Hogwarts there was too much noise in the Great Hall to hear chewing or slurping but in the kitchen of Potters’ Cottage? It was awful. “Oh my god, Charlie, you have grown again. Soon you will be taller than me. Anne, can you help me in the kitchen?”

“Do you need me to levitate your trunk?” asked his father.

“No, I’ll cast a feather-light charm, and then just drag it upstairs, Dad.”

“You have already learned that charm? I don’t remember learning it before second year.”

“I am in Ravenclaw, my friends and I love learning,” he pointed out. “We probably wandered into third-year material.”

“I am glad you are enjoying yourself, Harry.”

Hadrian smiled. “I love Ravenclaw.”

His father smiled back a bit sadly, but Hadrian wasn’t bothered by it nor paid it much attention. Instead, he brought the trunk to his room to start unpacking. First, the school robes changed on the train landed in the dirty bin in his bathroom, and then he got to arranging his textbooks, parchment, ink bottles and quills on the desk. _Wizarding celebrations_ by Aloise Bones was placed on the nightstand, clothes in the big wardrobe… Everything in the order he liked and practiced since childhood.

He often caught himself repeating the same order or scheme. Terry also pointed it out and looked interested when Hadrian told him that he just preferred—needed—things in a certain arrangement if he wanted to relax in the room. It also calmed him down and helped him think when he could arrange or sort something. Terry probably named it one of Hadrian’s quirks, because he hadn’t mentioned it again.

“Children, uncle Sirius is in the house!” Was he using a _Sonorous_ or what? Hadrian heard him too well from his room for this to be an ordinary yell. If yes, then his mother and Remus were berating him… And that meant, he didn’t have to hurry and could check if he looked presentable. The beige shirt was slightly crumpled so he straightened it with a spell, and the black slacks worked with it just fine. He wasn’t cold, so he put away the pomegranate cardigan he had left on the chair earlier… And then went downstairs to get dinner over with.

“Hadrian! As lanky as always! Do you even eat anything?” He didn't even make it to the table when Sirius noticed him. “With longer hair, I could easily confuse you with Regulus or any Black! He too looked like a Bowtruckle.”

“As if! The Potters’ hair is just easier tamed when longer, and he looks like Uncle Fleamont!”

Hadrian winced internally at his godfather’s words. James Potter didn’t like it when people pointed out Hadrian’s resemblance to the Blacks. There was no lie in it, because he may have had thick and unstoppable hair, but it wasn't like James’ or Charles’ mess. It was somewhere between wavy and curly, nearly ink black, not brown or chestnut, like grandmother’s. His eye color was unusual for both bloodlines, Lily Potter’s startling green, which everyone loved to point out. He was scrawny, pale, and gave the impression of being delicate, and he had seen the similarity with Sirius’ brother Regulus once in photographs from his childhood years. His features were sharper than his parents', although he inherited a proportional, narrow nose from his mother, and his father’s strong, shapely eyebrows and jawline. His cheekbones were much higher, completely from the Blacks, as were his long and thin fingers. The older he got, the stronger it showed.

If his father didn't like seeing a Black in him, then he’d hate the fact that he had a gift which ran in the Blacks’ blood. Not that Hadrian planned on trying to tell him again anywhere in the near future. Maybe after Hogwarts, maybe after leaving the cottage.

“It’s nice to see you too, Sirius.” Mother gave up on trying to get them to call Sirius uncle years ago.

“How is my favorite nerd?”

“Don’t call him that, Siri,” said Remus. “He’s not a nerd.” Remus looked a bit worn out and sick, but it could mean a plethora of different things. Experiments with new versions of Wolfsbane potion, hard time in work, the new anti-creature campaign in the ministry, even depression. Hadrian probably shouldn’t know about the last one, but he once heard Sirius talking about it with his mother.

“I am fine. Hogwarts is good and I really love Ravenclaws’ dorms. It’s two persons in a room, and we have a small library in the common room,” he responded.

“And he has a friend, who is calling himself his prince charming and helped him with his trunk!” Oh, great. Anne just had to tell Sirius, who won’t let him live this down.

“So young and already breaking hearts! So like his handsome godfather!” Sirius exclaimed cheerfully. “And father,” was added, when James hit his shoulder lightly. “How did it happen?”

“It’s just a joke.”

“Aaaand? Come on, Harry, tell your dogfather. You didn’t write it in your letters!”

“Well, I wanted to send a letter, and I still don’t like being near owls, so Michael joked that he would be my prince charming, save me and send my letter from the owlery. So he did, but the joke remained.”

“…Michael?” James asked. So interrogation had just started?

“Michael Corner. He, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot are my best friends. I share my room with Terry, and Michael and Anthony are next door,” Hadrian elaborated. “I am on good terms with the majority of housemates from my year, but I mainly stick together with them. I don’t really talk to anyone else unless a professor will pair me with someone and that doesn't really happen.”

James didn’t say anything, so either he hadn’t heard the names in his line of work or was thinking about what he knew, but Lily did.

“And Neville and Ronald?” she asked. Did nobody write home about their escalating hate towards each other? “Or Lady Bones’ niece?” Was he hearing a hopeful tone in her voice? Did his mother hope that he would cultivate a relationship with the Light families, even if it was clear for years that they hadn’t got along?

“Not really. Susan is in Hufflepuff and always with her friends. We share most of our classes, but not all of them. Mandy Brocklehurst was sorted in Ravenclaw with me though, she’s nice. She’s always up to discussing potions.” Hadrian didn’t explain why he despised Ronald or didn’t care for Neville. “I talked with Fred and George a few times. Percy has a bit of a crush on our prefect, so he sometimes visits the dorms, when his are too loud.” There, he hung out with Weasleys, all was good, no need to worry about the wrong sort of friends. He even timed it well, because Charles was still up in his room, so he couldn’t protest.

“And how is Quidditch this year?”

“I don’t know, I don’t watch the matches,” he admitted, to which Sirius gasped dramatically and grasped James’ arm.

“Hadrian underestimates the beauty of this sport,” said his father with false despair. If he joked, then he wasn’t in a bad mood.

“He doesn’t go to the matches, Jamie!” Charles chose this moment to come in, or rather barge into the kitchen. “Charlie, our only hope is in you, how is Quidditch this year?” Charles was more than happy to tell them all about it. He wanted to try for the team next year, and Sirius and James were all about it.

“I hope you don’t spend all your time in books, Harry,” Remus told him. He sat next to him with a glass of water he just got from a sink. “It’s perfectly fine to learn, but you shouldn’t forget about rest or exploring the castle.”

“I don’t read all the time.” His friends minded the breaks, always went with him to meals and adding to this, Terry kept an eye on him, so he wouldn’t stay up too late in the night. Michael dragged him into games quite regularly at this point and together with Anthony roped Hadrian into discussions with other Ravenclaws.

“So… what do you do for fun?”

“Well… I play chess in the common room. We go to walks on the grounds and by the lake.” The question on its own was harmless, but Hadrian could see that his father stopped talking with Sirius and Charles and paid more attention to him instead. “We debate with each other sometimes, when we have different opinions… Anthony is a bit fascinated with muggle science, so he bought some books by owl and we are going through them sometimes for fun. It goes well because Terry’s parents are suppliers for St. Mungo’s and he always wondered about muggle doctors or medicine. Michael’s father is muggleborn, so we are able to tell them some things. Anthony is fascinated by movies and he hasn't seen any yet, so we are thinking about a trip to a theater during the summer break. Michael told him also about amusement parks. I think he would like to go there, but he is too embarrassed to ask.”

He could swear his mother lost some tension in her posture when she heard that. She was straining the pasta, but she soon turned around with a small smile.

“It’s good to hear you found yourself nice friends,” she said. “Are you already planning on staying with each other for summer?”

“Terry’s parents work a lot, so he said he’s mostly alone and seemed sad about it, so Anthony proposed we make a checklist of places to visit or things to do during the breaks.” His mother was a sucker for polite, helpful children. And when they seemed sad or lonely? She wanted to do something nice for them. “I don’t do much during summer and Michael was really excited, so I said I’ll see about it.”

“I remember times when I thought James’ father would throw us out because we spend the majority of summer with them each year.”

“We wouldn’t throw anyone out of the house. Maybe Sirius,” teased James.

“Hey! I am too likable to throw me out!”

Hadrian left them to their bickering. It would be for the best if they lost their interest in him now. Most of the time they left him alone after asking one or two questions. Remus sometimes was more persistent and talked to Hadrian about books or tried to coerce him into joining them in whatever everyone was doing. The last one rarely worked, because he was content with watching from the side or ignoring their antics altogether. Besides, Hadrian hated the unexpected loud sounds that often accompanied pranks or Zonko’s jokes.

He accepted the plate with spaghetti from his mother and forced himself to eat. It would be the best if he could just imagine being somewhere else, not in front of Charles, who ate like pig on a good day. It was irritating and he felt himself getting antsier and antsier as the meal progressed. Maybe he could find a spell to silence the noises? There should be some variation of _Silencio,_ which should mute certain sounds.

He didn’t finish the whole plate when it was too much for him to stand. His stomach clenched, and he knew he would throw up if he continued eating. He had to calm down, so he looked at his mother. She was busy talking to Annie, and Charles was occupying the attention of their father, Remus and Sirius, so he took this chance, stood up and went to clean his plate. Nobody said anything and he used a few crumpled leafs of paper towels to hide the pasta he had thrown away. This Yule would be long and grueling.

*

Hadrian didn’t expect it, so he must have looked bewildered when his father stopped him in the hallway the day before New Year and motioned towards his study. It wasn’t often that James Potter wanted to talk face to face, so Hadrian quickly backtracked his behavior to find something worth any kind of conversation. He couldn’t think of anything. So… what was it about?

“Listen, Hadrian,” he began. His tone was neutral, but it often started like this. He would start from sounding like he discussed irrelevant events and then end up in a passionate rage. In those moments, sometimes, things would break or fall down from a shelf. It was terrifying for Hadrian because he could easily imagine this angry energy turning on a person. Especially when his father’s face was twisted in fury. It was an ugly sight. 

“Mother and I are very happy, that you found good friends in Hogwarts, who aren’t judgmental. Your mother was worried that you’ll end up alone, because of your… big imagination. I am not saying that having an imagination is bad, but lying to impress people is. Especially when you are older. People are going to call you out and you’ll be embarrassed, we’ll be embarrassed. I am glad your friend Terry isn’t very close with Healer Boot, or maybe Mr. Boot forgot about that disaster, and God I hope you got that out of your head because it’ll be even more disastrous now when you are going to school with children of influential people.”

It was sad to hear, because Terry and Healer Boot were on Hadrian’s side, believed him, never ridiculed anything he said or told him he was embarrassing to the family. James Potter went out of his way to not tell him outright, but that was the meaning of this little speech. Hadrian Castor Potter was an embarrassment.

“Your mother also told me that Sni.. Snape wrote to her about your absentmindedness. He suggested something is wrong with you because you drift away during the simplest activities. Don’t do that, focus. Do you want your friends to act like Ronald and tease you non-stop? Do you want people to think that something isn’t right with you?” If what Ronald does is teasing, then he was a dragon. Also, he didn’t think that he could just… stop his mind from drifting off. Just like he couldn’t just stop organizing, thinking, reading, breathing… “Hadrian!” He flinched visibly when his father shouted. “Don’t do that! What have I just told you?! To stop spacing out like you are retarded!” Each sentence was followed with a jab of James’ finger to his chest. The last one caused him to take a step back with its force. “Did you forget how to speak?”

“No, father. I am sorry. I am just tired,” he replied almost instantly. Hadrian was getting more and more nervous because no matter what, his father never pushed him.

“Tired is not an explanation!” James put his hand on his shoulder and shook him, the move making him feel sudden nausea. “Watch yourself, Hadrian, and get a grip, be a normal child for once and don’t make problems. I am stressed out enough with my impending promotion to the Head of the Department, don’t add to it. You don’t have to be the center of attention. It’s not even a good kind of attention. People are looking at you, thinking you are weird and connecting this with us. Do you understand?” Only then he lowered his hand.

“Yes, father.” Hadrian didn’t want to cry in front of him. His hands were shaking, but they were hidden in the big sleeves of a sweater. He had no idea what was happening. His face felt cold and he couldn’t control the slight trembling.

“Good. Now you may go. And think about what I told you.”

Hadrian went straight to his room, closed the door and slowly sat on the floor. He raised his hands. They were uncontrollably shaking, he observed with sick fascination. It didn’t feel like his body at all. He could as well observe from the outside. He couldn’t calm himself down, he couldn’t properly breathe. It hadn’t happened before. Never. Hadrian knew his stomach could clench, he could feel sick and cold when he worked himself up… but this shaking and feeling of detachment? It scared him. What if something like that started when he was in public? He would make a huge scene.

Trying to focus on anything else than what happened, led him to slowly stand up, make his way to the bookcase and take out _100 Runes for the beginners_ , which he took then to his bed. He knew them all, but reading through the familiar text made him feel better. Same with following the shapes of Runes, and reciting facts from different volumes or differences.

When a few drops of water hit the third page, Hadrian touched his face. How could anyone not notice they were crying? His cheeks were completely wet, so he wiped away the tears with his sweater. Breathe in, breathe out. It was like a lump had formed in his throat. Again, breathe in, breathe out. He read the same sentence a third time. It was irritating, so he closed the book.

 _Lumos_ , he thought, gathering his hands to form a bowl. Bright magic erupted and Hadrian really looked at his spell, which added pale blue color around the ball of light. He willed it to dim, to brighten up again, to become smaller, to grow bigger. He threw it in the air and forced it to stay above him, made it do a small circle and then stop on the level with his eyes. Breathe in, breathe out. He felt a bit calmer and his hands stopped shaking so much.

Could he make two of those? He didn’t know a spell which made multiple lights, but if he could hold this _Lumos_ in power, what prevented him from trying to cast a new one? Would the permanence charm work on something incorporeal like a ball made of light? Probably no. It didn’t affect any object nor transfigured one, so there wasn’t anything to make permanent. Wouldn’t it lead to magical exhaustion? Possibly.

He ended up trying a few times to cast another _Lumos_ , but nothing happened. It absorbed his attention, however, and he spent a lot of time analyzing what went wrong. Even the distortion in the air hadn’t formed. He promised himself to look into it, played around with _Lumos_ a bit more and finally ended it with a _Nox_.

He definitely felt better. Not wonderful, but breathing was easier, the lump in the throat had disappeared and his face didn’t feel cold anymore. He was alone, in silence, safe. In two days he was going to be in Hogwarts, in his dorms with friends. He would make plans not to come back for the summer or spend at least most of it away from home. Anthony, Terry, and Michael won’t turn away from him. Everything will be fine. Everything had to be fine. It sounded a bit empty even in his head, but he wanted to believe that in the end, somewhere in the future, he will be fine and happier.

The thought of fire calling someone passed through his mind, but he decided not to do it. It was nearing eight, they could be having a late dinner. He knew he had promised, however, he really didn't want anyone to see him. He could last two or three days and talk about it on the train. On the other side, it was even harder to talk about than his magical sensitivity. Admitting to himself that he lost control, got scared, shaken or anxious was one thing. Talking about it was completely different. And it was such a stupid reason for it. A bit of a shove shouldn’t make him feel like this. Like… a weird freak. Why was there always something wrong with him?

Not the first time he wished he had some kind of guidance.

*

Forgetting about his father was easy when he was around the Ravenclaws in their common room. There was nothing to remind him about the unpleasant Yule, his condescending mother or aggressive father. Charles was more tolerable this time, although Hadrian had walked straight into a prank and ended up with a stubborn mistletoe floating around him and serenading him with carols in a terribly squeaking voice. _Silencio_ hadn’t worked, so he silenced it with his magic and barely restrained himself from setting it on fire.

His mood was improved by presents. Sirius gave him some kind of gift card to a bookstore, which was a relatively new thing in the wizarding world, but Hadrian was happy to use it. Remus bought him a new set of stationeries, which was welcome. He was going through his quills at a surprisingly fast tempo. It was the most modest gift because his parents bought him new robes, shirts and trousers. Most of them were in his House colors, but some were so painfully muggle that he was certain he wouldn't wear them.

The most priceless presents came from his friends. They agreed to exchange them in Hogwarts after New Year but had sent each other sweets on Christmas Day anyway. Hadrian got three collections of chocolates large enough to not provoke comments about being irrelevant to his friends. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on new books, especially after Anthony said he got him something really good in the train. They knew better than to owl him anything that could be deemed suspicious or write about it.

Something really good turned out to be a _Pureblood Directory_. It was supposedly written by Cantankerus Nott, despite the fact it officially had an anonymous author. His mother would scream at him and ground him for life, but he couldn’t care at that moment. He also got _Politics and family titles_ by Amanda Rookwood and _Unpopular family rituals with relation to Ancient Runes_ by Augustinus Goldstein. It was a bit too much and he told Anthony that, but he was very blasé about it. The Goldstein family was very wealthy, so probably it hadn’t made even a small dent in his allowance. Hadrian, in turn, hunted down _Obscure and forgotten traditions of Celtic origin,_ which wasn’t cheap either.

Terry had almost jumped when he was given _Arithmancy through ages and cultures_ and had in turn given him two very advanced books on Runes. Hadrian was tempted to look at them more closely, but Michael whined about waiting for his turn. Worse than Annie. Hadrian bought him a book about safe potion experimentation and invention, and that earned him a prolonged hug, about which he didn’t know how to feel. It was nice, but at the same time he wasn’t used to it and wouldn’t ask for it. Hadrian didn’t tell him to let him go, because when he saw Michael’s gift to him, he was stunned. _Experiencing Magic_ and _Of manipulations of magical matters_ were two humongous volumes explaining magical sensitivity, its possibilities, and methods to amplify and control it. Priceless.

“I won,” announced Michael. “Did you see his awestruck expression? It calls for a reward. I want a kiss on the cheek.”

“I won’t kiss you,” replied Hadrian and shoved him playfully, not putting any strength behind it. “But they all are wonderful. I love them,” he admitted. His friends were the best.

“Did you figure out a way to store them for the summer?” asked Terry. Hadrian told them earlier he had to think about it because he couldn’t leave his books in his room.

“I think so. I just have to check if my idea is possible.”

He moved away a bit from Michael and settled nicely in the corner of a big sofa near the fireplace. The Ravenclaw Tower wasn’t very warm in the winter and Hadrian wasn't a huge fan of warming charms. They made him feel overheated and overwhelmed rather easily, but maybe he just put too much power in them.

“Explain,” Michael poked him on the knee. “You do this thing, where you say yes or no, but don’t tell us anything else. I am curious.”

“We are Ravenclaws, we are always curious,” added Anthony and sat straighter in his armchair.

“So… I thought about it and then I remembered a case my father discussed with Sirius and Remus in our house maybe a year ago. They had a problem with smuggling and more layers of spells that they were expecting, so they called in a Cursebreaker and an Auror got hurt. Sirius and Remus talked about how detecting charms work to a certain degree. Wards are better and I think we have a detecting ward placed around the Cottage. Something was added to the standard ones when I looked at them this Yule… The thing is, when you place wards on something and then put it in a warded place, it won’t be detected. That’s how they hadn’t found a big part of the smuggled potions. But when you place the warded thing in a place with detecting charms or cast them, they’ll detect the protective ward. It works the other way around, but the detecting charm is limited to detecting the first layer of protection and a ward can detect an affinity of magic. I don’t think anyone would expect a second layer from me, even if they would find some kind of protection charms on my trunk. Something will be found for sure. So maybe if I’ll let them find something, they won’t be looking deeper. That’s one idea, but I don’t know any good charms for that nor I trust myself to cast them permanently. So I thought about something simpler. A charmed object in a charmed object with the same charms. The signature should cover the second one, if there are wards or charms around my home or if someone casted them.”

“… what?” asked Terry, furrowing his eyebrows. Michael looked like he was lost too.

“I think I know what you want to do,” began Anthony. “You don’t know what was placed around your house, but you are sure something was. Wards are more possible and we aren’t knowledgeable enough to properly ward or charm anything. If you at this point want to hide something, it’ll be detected, but while spells would be discovered, a number of them shouldn’t if they’re the same.”

“Couldn’t you say it that simply?” whined Michael, and Hadrian rolled his eyes. It was simple enough.

“I’ll simplify it for you even more. I’ll order a second trunk with the same enchantments, shrink it and place it in my first one. I’ll set a different password. My parents made Charles and I write down our passwords for the trunks they bought us, so…”

“So simple?” Terry looked at him with wonder in his eyes.

“I think so. They wouldn’t expect it. My father was surprised I knew the feather-light charm.”

“It’s not advanced,” Anthony said with distaste. “Are we the only ones who want to learn useful magic and reach for more? Too many people don’t learn anything before coming to Hogwarts.”

“So what do we have to research?” asked Michael and looked briefly at the books on his lap. He moved them to a low table in front of him.

“Well, I’ll feel better if _shouldn’t was_ changed to _won’t_.” Hadrian wanted certainty, after this Yule. “I remember which charms were placed on my trunk, so I’ll have to check my theory and then read more about detecting wards and signatures of spells. I don’t know anything about signatures.”

“It seems like a nice research project,” Anthony summed it up, looking like he was already planning it out in his head. “And then we’ll order you a nice trunk.”

“Ideally from the same place, but I know from which shop they are. I would be perfect if the spells were cast by the same person, but I don’t know if this is necessary.”

“So… we are going to basically recreate one of the smuggler’s ideas?” Terry looked a bit pensive. “If this is our research project for the first year, then I wonder what we are going to do in our last. Find a way to pass wards like it’s nothing?”

“Terry, mate, it sounds like a job for a fifteen year old. In our last year we are going to at least dive in Goblins’ wards,” said Anthony so arrogantly, that Hadrian laughed quietly.

“You sound like Granger,” Hadrian informed him, still smiling. Terry and Michael busted into loud laughter, because of Anthony’s unimpressed face.

“Don’t compare me to her. She already pissed off Penelope…” Anthony fell silent for a moment because Morag and Lily were passing by nearby and approached them. Morag perched on the armrest of the only free armchair and Lily sat on the seat.

“I heard Granger, so I wondered what it was about because I overheard Clearwater and her friend. I’ll tell if you’ll tell,” she proposed and Anthony nodded, satisfied with this exchange.

“My father is on the Board of Governors.” He leaned to them and everybody did the same. It ought to look like they were gossiping, but it wasn’t out of normal. Ravenclaws were ones of the best with information gathering. It was this burning curiosity to know everything about what pricked their attention. “He told me that her parents wrote to the Board and asked for a single room for her because she wasn’t feeling well with Padma or getting along with the rest of you in the girls’ dorms. They claimed she’s isolated on purpose, not included and bullied, because of racist ideology our House is apparently supporting. The Board refused but notified the teachers. Professor Flitwick searched for Penelope and Padma as soon as we arrived in the castle.”

“She didn’t,” Lily was horrified. “Padma was trying so hard to be civil, after Granger insinuated the betrothal proposals her parents were considering and the traditional hair braiding are a way to show that she’s worth less than men, to—like she said—racist, patriarchal society.”

Morag must have known about it, because her face showed only distaste. Anthony looked both enraged and disgusted, but it wasn’t only him. Even the usually calm Terry and cheerful Michael seemed really angry. Hadrian felt disgusted by her sheer ignorance. What did Granger know about considering betrothal proposals anyway? It was common practice. A bit old school, yes, but a political move. A lot of families let their children choose the final match in the end, between accepted ones, so it wasn’t out of Padma’s control. She could argue and say no if she wasn’t satisfied and even negotiate introducing her own candidate. They weren't barbarian, Magic couldn’t bless an unwanted union!

“Now, I overheard Clearwater talking to Steward. Flitwick apparently took them to his office, told them vaguely about the letter and asked what was going on with Granger. Clearwater witnessed a few… incidents in our common room, so she told him about Granger’s impertinence, arrogance and calling everyone she didn’t agree with a racist. Padma told him more… How Granger is interrupting, correcting people and about her awful belief in her own rightness. Then Flitwick asked if anyone had talked to her about it. Padma told him that not anymore, because no one liked being called a racist or a bigot, so people would get offended, ignore her, and then, in turn, she would get offended that no one wants to talk with her. Clearwater confirmed it was true and Granger was often antagonizing someone, so we mostly left her alone and started ignoring her. Flitwick didn’t want to tell them what would happen next, but he promised to talk with Granger.”

“If I were Padma, I would be furious,” Terry told them. “Thank Circle Hadrian is the least problematic roommate possible.”

“I know, right? If I were Granger’s roommate, someone would end dead,” Morgan said and patted Lily’s shoulder. “I am lucky with Lily. We talked a bit, and we could take Padma in. I know the Board refused, but maybe Flitwick will let us. Sue, Lisa and Mandy have one room, so we can too.”

“But wouldn’t it be encouraging wrong behavior?” pointed out Hadrian. “She’s awful and she gets her own room.”

“She’ll be more isolated,” replied Anthony. “Less problems for us.”

“Who cares, she’ll probably be the one who graduates Hogwarts and then goes back to being a Muggle, because she won’t be able to handle the real world. Imagine her working at the Ministry,” Michael added to that. “Not our problem.”

Hadrian yawned and laid his head on his hand that was propped on the armrest.

“Do you want to go up? It’s getting quite late,” Terry asked him, and Hadrian considered staying for a moment, but then someone started a rather loud debate about some kind of leaves. He didn’t have enough energy.

“We may go.” Hadrian slowly got up and took his new books from the table, after charming them lighter. “So, tomorrow we start in the library? After breakfast?”

“First in the common room is waiting for the rest,” Michael reminded them because they often joked about leaving him behind because of his tendency to sleep late.

*

Between classwork, homework and practicing spells, their research took a lot more time than Hadrian previously thought it would. Adding to it, they had to make a place for resting or relaxing. Anthony sometimes wanted to sit in the common room and exchange gossip with Morag and Lily and sometimes other girls. Who was he kidding, Hadrian enjoyed it a lot because of the comments everyone made. He had stopped being bothered about discussing people in a public space when Morag showed them a variant of _Silencio_ her brother had taught her. It was a wonderful spell, which silenced not a person, but a small area. It led to long rants, in which Padma let her irritation out. They kept the living arrangements, so Granger wasn’t really pleasant to be around. Michael almost choked on a biscuit when Padma had admitted to working hard on finding a way to make a barrier in the middle of their room with at least a silencing charm. It wasn’t going well, but the funniest part was Flitwick recommending her books.

It was not only that, but everything turned out to be much more complicated and they had to read a bit about certain aspects of Theory of Magic to understand how to adapt everything they read to their situation. In a way it was like a magical puzzle, everything had to fit and they had to be mindful of the bigger picture. They finished it by the end of June, with satisfactory results. 

Hadrian’s theory was mostly correct, but layering spells was very far from their reach. It was a complicated work and one attempting it should be aware of so many things, that Hadrian got it out of his head for a very long time. The idea with a trunk in his trunk was easier and actually faultless unless someone was to search his trunk manually. It wasn’t very possible, but he could not underestimate James’ paranoia, so he already thought about hiding it inside his room under the floor or bookcase. If it was shrunk enough to put in his pocket, then it would fit. He felt instantly better and more confident when it became clear.

Plans about spending summer with his friends were in motion. His parents agreed after a letter from Mrs. Corner. It was also simpler than Hadrian had thought because his mother was nominated for some award and had to attend a gala in Paris, which was organized with presentations of the newest inventions. She was going to be away for a week, and his father was finally promoted to the Head of the Department, which doubled his workload, from what he had been hearing from Remus’ letters. Charles was set to stay with the Weasleys with Anne, and Hadrian had to go somewhere too… So the Corners were a nicer alternative for him. His mother was also convinced that Hadrian was really excited about going to Muggle London. He didn’t know what Michael had been telling his mother, to get her to cover for him, but he was thankful. They hadn’t planned on being anywhere near London, but they planned two weeks with the Goldsteins. It left him with the last three weeks of summer break in the Cottage, but it would also be time spent on preparations for Hogwarts.

Michael was so excited, he was almost buzzing with energy. Even end of the year exams haven’t curbed it, and after that all he talked about was their summer plans. Hadrian didn’t have a clue how Anthony dealt with that, because it was a lot. He preferred Terry’s much calmer eagerness. Hadrian was looking forward to everything too, and he ended up smiling a lot more. Even Ronald couldn’t ruin it for him with his words and childish hexing.

They boarded the train with good humor after receiving exam results. Hadrian ended up fourth in his year, so he was quite content with it. Anthony was happy with his second place, Michael with his seventh and Terry with eight. It placed them high enough to be considered for choosing more than two electives in their third year. It was a possibility only for students with higher marks.

“I know Hadrian will come with me from the platform, but hurry up and show before dinner tomorrow. I can’t wait to show you our library,” said Michael. He was so hyped, he couldn’t sit calmly.

He wanted to add something, but the doors to the compartment opened, showing three students. They were from their year and Hadrian first off noticed Slytherin crests on their robes.

“Hello, could we possibly sit with you? We couldn’t find a free compartment, beside one with this Granger girl, and…” began the girl in the middle. She was really tall, with waist-length auburn hair and big glasses with delicate gold frames.

“Sure,” agreed Anthony, after looking briefly at him and not seeing any form of a protest.

They moved a bit to accommodate three more students, so everyone could sit comfortably. Hadrian sat by the window with Terry on his left side, and that robbed him from any complaints. He didn’t like sitting close to new people.

“I am Tracy Davies from the House of Davies,” she introduced herself first, and then everyone followed with introductions. Theodore Nott, who sat next to Anthony, looked at Hadrian weirdly for a moment, like he was expecting him to do something or loudly protest his presence.

“It’s because heir Potter pranked him with the Weasleys,” explained Daphne Greengrass, who was doll-like in appearance. She looked like one of the child models from his mom’s muggle magazines with her blond curls and large green eyes. They weren’t exactly like his, because they reminded him more of deep forest green. His were lighter and more intense like new grass in the spring.

“I am sorry for Charles. I don’t like the Weasleys either, but I downright don’t tolerate them when they’re paired with my brother. He’s a jerk,” Hadrian told him then, and a bit of the tension eased. As the next two hours passed, they all talked rather freely with each other. Tracey and Daphne turned out to be as interested in the latest gossip as Anthony, so Terry asked about Theodore’s interests and soon Hadrian was neck deep in a conversation about Runes, which had broken the last ice. His father would get kneazles if he saw his son in a friendly chat with the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott, promising each other to sometimes work together in the next semester.

But Hadrian didn’t want to care about it now. Now, he was smiling.


	2. A verbis ad verbera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: child abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Reader! Enjoy yourself ;)
> 
> To clarify:
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter or any right to it. This text is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment.  
> I'm not a native speaker. English is my third language, so I'll be grateful for pointing out anything my beta for this chapter or I missed.
> 
> Due to the multitude of duties, if there was a person willing to be a beta-reader for this fanfic or my other works, please send me a message or comment! I'll get back to you for sure.

Summer was wonderful. Michael’s parents have been keeping their distance but were extremely polite, kind, and accommodating to all of them. They were mostly left alone but were expected to eat together every meal, unless Lord Corner was needed in the Ministry or couldn’t make it. Lady Corner worked mostly from home, but often attended small gatherings with her acquaintances.

Hadrian was amazed by the grounds around the Corner Mansion. There was a separated area in the huge gardens, in which the Lughnasadh Ritual was taking place. It already started, but after the altar was made without magic with the bare hands of participants, they had to wait for the right time. It wasn’t a large celebration, so fourteen candles were standing around the runic circle. It was a good number or at least he was told it was. Terry explained that multiples of seven or three were always sought after, because of their significance in magical theory.

Inside of the runic circle was offerings: young plants, ripe vegetables, and a big vase of clear water. Hadrian knew the magic would turn them into dust and dry any liquid after the ritual, but now nothing was happening, so he was observing everything else. Tonight magic was almost touchable in the air. He felt it on his skin like a slightly warmer breeze. It gave him the comfort he didn’t know he needed.

“What do you see?” asked Terry’s father, Jeremiah Boot. He and his wife showed up earlier the evening right before Anthony’s parents. Hadrian was the only one without a family, but he didn’t feel alone at all. Maybe a little overwhelmed by the attention paid to him. Mr. Boot was very interested in how his gift expanded over the years, so he asked a lot of questions, essentially outing him to everyone else. Hadrian didn’t mind, it came from a place of genuine curiosity. It was nice, how the Goldsteins got immediately curious or Lord Corner looked at him with newfound attention. However, after an hour he had tired himself. It must have shown because Michael swiftly proposed taking a look at the newest plants in the garden which bloomed in the night. He gratefully took the opportunity to breathe a bit and walk around with Michael, Terry, and Mr. Boot.

“Well, apart from the wards above us, magic is concentrating in the air? I don’t see it, but I feel it. It’s warm and I think its pressure on my skin is getting heavier,” he answered slowly, considering his words and choosing them carefully. He wanted to give an accurate description, but it wasn’t always possible. “It’s a nice feeling. Sort of comforting? Like a blanket.”

“It’s how we feel during the ritual,” explained Mr. Boot. “I don’t have a doubt, Mother Magic favors you.”

Hadrian felt weird hearing that. Of course, he knew that the majority of wizards believed in Mother Magic and Circle of Life, in celebration of power given to them, thriving in the world and living beings around them. But knowing it was something different than being chosen by this mystical force. This meant that Mother Magic singled him out in a way, deemed him worthy. And Hadrian never honored her. He felt bad about this realization. He sometimes called for Mother or Circle, but it wormed into the language like calling for God in the Muggle one. Most of the wizards did it without care, it held no significance. Even Granger started to do that!

Why had Mother deemed him worthy? Was he always meant to start searching, trying to get closer? Because that was what he was doing all the time. Hadrian always felt it was important. He was scared and curious at the same time. Maybe he was just overthinking this part?

“Hadrian, you are spacing out,” Terry told him, touching his arm delicately. Hadrian hadn’t flinched only because he saw the movement in the corner of his eye. “I asked if the runic circle looked different.”

“Sorry.” Hadrian felt a bit embarrassed. It was one thing if he spaced out in front of his friend but in the presence of Mr. Boot? “Not really. I don’t see anything different right now.”

“I count on a really detailed description after the ritual,” Michael said and led them through a small path between robust yellow rose trees. “I don’t really remember where it was planted, but it’s some kind of nocturnal flower which lure moths.”

“Can plants be nocturnal?” asked Terry sounding like he thought Michael had said something really unintelligent.

“It’s called nyctinasty,” Hadrian informed them. Michael looked at him weirdly, and Terry rolled his eyes. “What? It was written in the first chapter of our Herbology textbook, but nocturnal would work too, I guess.”

“Even I don’t remember this word and I was second in our year in Herbology,” said Terry. “Seriously, Dad, I didn’t know a difference between the Southern and the Western Mandrake and he just looked at me all disappointed like it was the easiest question and said it was a pattern on the leaves! A pattern on the leaves!”

“To be fair, this is only one difference,” Mr. Boot said with a smile. “But it’s a hard question.”

“I didn’t remember all of the uses of Venomous Tentacula, so don’t feel bad about it,” admitted Hadrian.

“And you aren’t the cause of multiple near-disasters in Potions, Terry,” teased Michael and took Hadrian’s hand in his to stop him from hitting his arm. “Anthony would throttle Hadrian in his sleep if his special cauldron melted.”

“I didn’t melt any cauldrons, but I can’t say the same about you, Michael,” Hadrian teased back, and let Michael put his hand on his forearm and lead him to the right.

“Anyway… That’s it. I guess it’s pretty, but I don’t think it’s a magical plant.”

Hadrian let the topic go and looked closer at the plant Michael was showing them. It was a bit weird. The white flowers had petals sharper than chrysanthemums’, but overall it was very similar to it. The leaves were different, more oval with jagged edges.

“Oh, but it is magical. Powdered flowers are used in calming potions and their leaves are great in a Calming Draught. Moonlight Snail Flower, because snails adore eating this leaves,” said Mr. Boot.

Hadrian pulled a face. Snails. He had not so nice experiences with them. Charles had put snails in his bed multiple times in the past. He abhorred those slimy, boneless invertebrates. Once he woke up with one on his chest. He wasn’t afraid of them, no. But grossed out? Of course. When they had to cut some in Potions, he firmly pushed them to Anthony with his knife to not touch them. They served their purpose in nature, but if it was possible, Hadrian preferred to stay away from them. Rainy days when slugs laid across the pavement were the worst and he always looked extra careful under his feet to not step on any.

“Are you watching the new Moonlight Snail?” Michael’s great-grandmother asked behind them. “I was worried if it would survive outside of the greenhouse, but so far so good.”

Hadrian turned around to greet Michael’s great-grandmother. Corners’ Manor was big enough to not see each other if someone wanted to be left alone. This mostly referred to her, but from time to time she sought them out in the small library and started telling them the most interesting stories of her youth. She took to explaining unusual celebrations, when she was informed of Hadrian’s situation, but never stayed with them for long. Annabelle Corner, the matriarch of Corner family, was a fragile-looking small lady with snow-white hair in a tight bun, who sometimes had a faraway look in her eyes as if she wasn’t all there. Michael said the house-elves were ordered to monitor her after her last visit to St. Mungo’s when a Healer informed the family of her poor health. She wasn’t that old by wizarding standards, having just had her one hundred and forty-eighth birthday, but the death of her husband had worn her down. Sometimes grief did that to people.

“It looks as if it likes it here, grandmother,” said Michael.

“And how do you like it here after the renovation, Mr. Boot?”

Hadrian tuned them out because the air suddenly got heavier, and let Michael lead him through the alleys. He hadn’t witnessed anything particularly interesting this night but he had a feeling this would change soon. He felt a warm breeze, although it did not move anything in the garden, which was somewhat unsettling. The night was hot and sultry, but something else was there. Hadrian was buzzing with anticipation. It was too confusing to grasp and put into words at the same time.

He brushed his hair behind his ear with his fingers, it almost reached his chin and he liked this look a lot. Lady Corner gave him a special potion to make the curls more defined. He had tried it with nonexistent hopes because Potter hair was unusually difficult to style. Hadrian was floored when it worked without any resistance. His hair now resembled his grandmothers’ more than anyone else’s and he liked it a lot this way. The potion eliminated the frizz and made it stay in place, a big improvement from the mess of disheveled waves and slight curls tousled by the wind.

He tried to relax. This ritual stressed him out, even though he had no idea why since he wasn’t the one leading them through it. He was just participating and it wasn’t a complicated thing. He read numerous descriptions and played it out in his mind enough times to know what would be happening tonight. He knew exactly what he would be thanking Mother Magic for and how to do it. It wasn’t a big celebration and the only people present was himself, Terry with his parents, Michael and Anthony with theirs, Michael’s great-grandmother, his grandparents, and his aunt with her husband.

He paid more attention to the surroundings when Michael pressed his hand to his side. Hadrian looked at his friend a bit disoriented. They were getting closer to the runic circle.

“We are going to start the ritual,” Michael told him quietly with a gentle smile. “You wouldn’t like to miss this, would you?”

“Of course not.” Hadrian returned the smile and took his hand back. “I wasn’t that far away anyway. I would know if something was happening.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Terry said. “I called your name like two times. I wasn’t yelling, but still. What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing specific. I’m quite restless. And the magic in the air got really heavy.” It wasn’t strong enough to bring him to his knees, but it felt like someone leaned on him heavily. It also made it harder to breathe, but again, it wasn’t enough to make him faint or feel dizzy. It just was there like a very heavy blanket.

“Do you feel anything?” he asked when they got closer to the circle and the rest of Michael’s family. His grandparents and aunt and uncle came out of the altar nearby and were now talking with the Goldsteins and the Boots.

“It’s getting warmer,” admitted Terry. “Comforting as you said earlier.”

“It’s not so comforting right now. More like overwhelming, because I can feel the weight of it pushing down on me.”

“Do you feel faint?” asked Lady Corner. “Tell us, if you do. It’s not unusual for people with your talent to be a little vulnerable to magical rituals and celebrations. You are closer to magic and you are feeling it stronger than us. If something worries you, ask or tell someone, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Hadrian didn’t like the idea of being in a vulnerable position but agreed without fuss. It made sense. But why hadn’t he felt something like that earlier? Did partaking in the making of the runic circle make such a difference? He asked because the Corners actually answered his questions in a way that he liked. Clear and without a big bias.

“Actually, it probably did,” answered Lady Goldstein. “You can’t force anyone to honor Mother Magic and Mother Magic never reach to those who don’t, so that’s why you hadn’t been feeling anything, and you aren’t used to experiencing it. We usually expose children to celebrations and rituals at a very young age because it helps them to be more in tune with their magic and connect to the community. I wouldn’t be surprised, if your age played role in how this affects you, but I doubt it will be harmful. Mother Magic could be reaching for you more because you are blessed by her and were far away, so the magic is calling to you stronger.”

It helped Hadrian to calm down and relax. He was still tense but not so much. He hadn’t missed their exchanged glances and he couldn’t help but think there was more to it. Or possibly could be more. However, he had no idea what it could be. He also didn’t want to ask if they chose not to speak about it.

Lord Corner placed Hadrian between himself and Mr. Boot in the circle they made around the altar. Hadrian hadn’t protested at all, being near an accomplished Healer made him feel safer if something went wrong.

“A Circle, a symbol of completeness and continuity,” Lord Corner chanted, drawing his wand out. “It is the Wheel of the Year; the cycle of life.”

He felt when the magic stirred and started moving, concentrating, and swirling. The candles, raised by the force of a spell, waited suspended in the air for them to take and Hadrian caught it with two hands.

“With this circle, sacred space has been created where the realms touch.”

Thick fog filled the runic circle and soon expanded. It slowly swallowed the runes and then reached for the candles, which were still alight. An eerie touch of something slightly cold almost made him flinch but he stopped himself. He had a strange need to look directly into the flame and his eyes drifted towards it.

“Come ye spirits of the North, powers of Earth, bring the beauty of ripe, golden fields. Be with me this night. Come ye spirits of the East, powers of Air, bring the cool morning breeze. Be with me this night. Come ye spirits of the South, powers of Fire, bring the hot, sultry summer afternoons. Be with me this night. Come ye spirits of the West, powers of Water, bring the warm rains that nourish the fields. Be with me this night. Lord Lugh, Master of Crafts, God of Nobility, Lord of Harvest. Be with me this night. Lady Magic, Lady Gaia, Mother of All. Nourish us, protect us. Be with me this night.”

He almost swayed on his feet, when the powerful feeling of being immersed in overwhelming magic took over his mind, but he wasn’t afraid. Everything seemed so right, so warm. He felt safe and protected.

“I share the bounty of the Lord. I share the bounty of the Lady. With my circle I send a gift to you, may the Goddess grant your wishes true.”

He knew that at this moment, the offering should turn into ash, and he made an effort to look, but he couldn’t see anything other than blinding white. He blinked but it didn’t help. All he could see was the whiteness. 

“May my wishes and intentions be carried above and below.”

Normally, he would be scared or uneasy without his sight. Now, he was calm and collected, like it was something normal and expected. Maybe it was the grounding weight of magic on his body, which was astonishingly comforting, maybe it was ritual itself.

“Lady Magic, Lady Gaia, Mother of All, thank you for your blessing and presence in my circle this night. Stay if you will; go if you must. I bid thee farewell. Lord Lugh, Master of Crafts, God of Nobility, Lord of Harvest, thank you for your blessing and presence in my circle this night. Stay if you will; go if you must. I bid thee farewell. Spirits of the West, powers of Water, thank you for your blessing and presence in my circle this night. Stay if you will; go if you must. I bid thee farewell. Spirits of the South, powers of Fire, thank you for your blessing and presence in my circle this night. Stay if you will; go if you must. I bid thee farewell. Spirits of the East, powers of Air, thank you for your blessing and presence in my circle this night. Stay if you will; go if you must. I bid thee farewell. Spirits of the North, powers of Earth, thank you for your blessing and presence in my circle this night. Stay if you will; go if you must. I bid thee farewell.”

The feeling of rightness was so easy to get lost in. He could just… let go, forget about everything, relax, not worry or be anxious. He was in the place he ought to be and that was it.

“Go forth with the love the Goddess sends. For if your heart is always true, this circle will come back to you.”

The pressure on his body slowly lessened to the point it was before the celebration, but he remained blinded. He felt a little numb and it was hard to focus. He knew he was standing and holding the candle in his hands, but everything else felt like he was underwater.

Someone took the candle from him and was talking, but he couldn’t make out the words or even recognize the voice. He felt hands lifting his face and he blinked furiously but it didn’t help. Before he even knew, he was seated on the ground and held by the shoulders.

He might have blacked out for a moment because when everything became clearer, there was the worried face of Mr. Boot directly in front of him and he was patting Hadrian’s cheek lightly, while repeatedly calling his name.

He got a hold of himself and propped himself on the ground. The feeling of grass between his fingers helped him figure out what was happening. Automatically his heartbeat picked up. He had made a spectacle of himself. Everyone was looking and it made this realization a lot worse.

“It’s all good. You are fine. I know you are disoriented,” Mr. Boot told him with firm but gentle voice. He was crouching on the ground in a way that looked uncomfortable. “Do you hear me?”

Hadrian couldn’t find his voice, so he just nodded. He was nauseous. His face was getting cold. Not this again, not today. He tried to remind himself of the rightness and calmness he felt moments before, but it was hard to do.

“Try to breathe, everything is fine.”

“He’s shaking,” said Lord Corner behind him. The hands that helped him sit evidently belonged to him.

“He’s just a bit shaken by the effects of the ritual. Hadrian, does anything hurt? What happened? Take a minute to answer if you need it.”

“I am not sure what happened,” Hadrian told them. “I… I saw nothing. Just this whiteness. It was blinding. And then I felt… I was calm like it was something that had to happen and was normal. It felt… right? And then it was like being underwater. I heard Lord Corner, but nothing else, and then I could do nothing, it was hard to think and focus, and I still couldn’t see.” Even then he felt as if everything was kind of distant.

“It felt right?” asked Lady Goldstein. Hadrian didn’t even notice her, but she was by his side. He could see everyone else behind her back; Great-grandmother Corner was ushering them towards the Mansion as if sparing his embarrassment.

“I don’t know how to describe it better,” he admitted. “I just felt right. Like I was in the right place at the right time. I felt calm. I wasn’t scared, I wasn’t nervous. It was odd.”

“Why was it odd?” prompted Mr. Boot.

“Because earlier I felt anticipation. Magic was heavy in the air when we were walking through the garden, but right before the celebration, it was really weighing me down. It wasn’t hurting me, and at the beginning it was comfortable, but then got a bit much, and during the ritual it was grounding.”

He felt somewhat calmer. Nobody was yelling or ridiculing him, which was something he expected to happen after they noticed there was nothing wrong with him anymore. His face was still cold and his stomach was uneasy, but his breathing slowed down. Only then did he realize that his breathing was shaky and shallow. He focused for the moment on trying to breathe more evenly.

“I haven’t heard about something like this,” Lady Goldstein told them.

“Me neither, but there should be a logical explanation,” replied Lord Corner. “Hadrian, can you stand up? Are you feeling faint?”

“I am not, but—”

“I will help, up you go,” cut in Mr. Boot, and soon he stood up with the help of two wizards. His head spun for a short moment, but it passed quickly. “Let’s go inside. It’s late and everyone is worried.” He must have seen something in Hadrian’s face because he almost instantly patted him lightly on a back and smiled. “Everything is fine. It was an unusual reaction but it’s nothing to be ashamed of. It happened, we got through this and I am sure tomorrow the boys wouldn’t want to come out of the library because they would want to research what happened. They care about you, we care about your wellbeing.”

That sounded very generic, but at the same time it was said with gentleness and such an assuring tone that Hadrian couldn’t help but smile back.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Michael or Terry who was the most concerned about what had happened. Anthony just couldn’t leave him alone, constantly eyeing him with a worried expression or taking his hand. He even sat next to him so close their thighs were touching and almost forced a piece of cake followed by chamomile tea down his throat. If Anthony ever complained about any of them being a mother hen, Hadrian will be having a whole arsenal of arguments against it. He endured this patiently, didn’t complain about the long hug before bed, grateful for such a person in his life. He vaguely remembered how jealous he was when he saw Anthony with Michael during the ride to Hogwarts. The knowledge, that now he was treated with the same care and consideration was heartwarming, although he set the limit when Anthony wanted to sleep in the room the Corners’ had let Hadrian stay in. It was a bit too much.

*

In the end, Hadrian knew he only had to spend the last two weeks of summer break in the Cottage, but it didn’t mean he was happy about it. That house didn’t feel like home anymore and he hadn’t been feeling safe there for quite some time now. Not that he thought of the Corner’s or the Goldstein’s Manor as his home. He hadn’t, but he still was more comfortable there than in the Potter’s Cottage. He couldn’t be sure that his walls wouldn’t be saturated with spells the next time he step inside his room.

He felt anxious, thinking of two weeks with his father in one house. Hadrian had an awful case of bad luck, so he doubted James will be having a hard time in the Department and work long hours. Even if he did, it would probably make him irritable and quick to anger. The Cottage wasn’t big enough for Hadrian to hide anywhere and he couldn’t really stick to his mother all day and night since she didn’t provide any help. And there was still the smuggling of the shrunken trunk in his old one. Even being sure the plan will work, he couldn’t help but worry.

His friends noticed, but Hadrian didn’t know how to tell them what was wrong. He didn’t want to talk about the Christmas disaster or James’ anger issues in general, so he settled with telling them about James’ safety paranoia and the trunk. He felt bad for omitting the truth, although he didn’t regret it. Hadrian still had hope that shoving him around was a one-time thing, but something in him knew it wasn’t. It seemed like the natural progress of things: disapproving, then shouting, then raising a hand against him. Sure, he knew it wasn’t right, but he wasn’t surprised. Sad but not surprised. He doubted it ever happened to Anne or Charles, which made it even worse, because… why only him? Why he was singled out? Hadrian wanted to believe he was as loved as his siblings were, but deep down he had doubts. It wasn’t a recent realization. Hadrian had been aware of it for a very long time. Sometimes it just hurt more.

He remembered the time when he was sitting with a book under the shadow of a big tree which was growing right in front of his window. It was a warm day, so James and Sirius were playing outside with Anne and Charles, while Lily and Remus cheered for them from the garden chairs. He couldn’t help but think then they would be better off without him. It was a bizarre thought for an eight year old boy, but it struck him hard and made his eyes water.

The thought remained with him for years, surfacing when he saw his siblings and parents with the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, or different people, happy and completely indifferent to his presence. What was curious, he knew for a fact Percival Weasley felt the same way about his place among the Weasleys. Percy wouldn’t tell him that, because he was too prideful, but he didn’t have to. It was easy to see with all the twins’ jokes, Ronald’s comments about his ambitions, or his older brothers ignoring him altogether. What Percival had and Hadrian hadn’t, was his parents’ unconditional love. They didn’t understand him, his ambitions, and his need to prove himself but they loved him fiercely even if they couldn’t offer him much.

Percival’s ambition and determination to have a good job in the future was something Hadrian admired about the boy. Ronald was ashamed of his family’s poverty, constantly jealous of the Potters’ or Longbottoms’ wealth, and he probably never thought about focusing on work to have something more. Billius and Charles were successful, but not overly so. Definitely less focused on the success and more on their own happiness. Percival wanted the world. Hadrian only wished him the best.

“We will see each other at the station.” Anthony looked hesitant to part ways. “Remember, each one is a floo call away. We have to figure out a way to talk to each other without owls. Next year’s project?”

“It’s not a bad idea. Maybe a parchment with enchantment or something…” Michael thought aloud, and Terry suddenly smiled widely.

“I have an idea, but I have to check if it’s possible,” he said happily and then hugged Michael. Anthony and Hadrian were next in the line. “I’ll see you in September.”

Hadrian too said his goodbyes and threw the floo powder into the huge fireplace. Traveling with floo was as awful as he remembered. Ash was everywhere and for a while he couldn’t breathe. He stumbled out the other side, into the Cottage, and took a moment to even his breathing and dust himself from the dirt.

“Harry!” he almost fell back into the fireplace when Anne ran into him and hugged him tightly. “You’re finally here. I was so bored!”

“Hi, Anne, are you alone?” he asked.

“Well, no. Remus is here but he’s working. Dad is in the Ministry and Mum was called to St. Mungo’s. Charlie went somewhere. It’s been like that all summer.”

Anne, or Anemone Marie Potter, was a terribly nice and social child. She smiled and laughed a lot, always made new friends and was even too polite sometimes. She had a huge sense of loyalty and was probably the only person in the whole family Hadrian adored this much, even if she was a bit silly and too forgiving sometimes. A Hufflepuff if he ever saw one, but she was dead set on Gryffindor. Hadrian didn’t want to break her heart and tell her that he didn’t think she was a lioness.

“So what have you been doing?” He charmed the trunk he had been holding feather-light and pulled it to the staircase to bring it up. Anne took hold of the opposite handle and lifted it with him.

“I was with the Weasleys a bit, but Ginny has a big gross crush on Charlie and wanted only to speak about him,” she told him. “She’s calling him funny and handsome, but when he’s near, she’s all red in the face and immediately running away, so he looks at her weirdly and the twins are always laughing when they see it. And Ron is mad because the twins and Charlie don’t want to play with him. They are plotting something in the twins’ room all the time and don’t let him see it. He also says very mean things about you, so I told him to shut up. He shouted at me, so I pretended to cry and he almost panicked! You should see his face, it was hilarious!”

“I bet. He always goes red in the face when he’s mad or embarrassed. And his ears are red as well!”

“It’s so funny!” Anne laughed happily and helped him bring the trunk to his room. He quickly searched for something unusual but nothing showed up. He felt instantly calmer with this knowledge.

“Anything else happened when I was away?” Anne didn’t always tell him everything. He had to pry delicately to get more information.

“Well… The Headmaster was here a few times,” she said carefully. “But you won’t tell anyone if I tell you?”

“Of course not.”

She hopped onto his bed, made herself comfortable and patted his comforter, so he sat dutifully beside her.

“He was here a lot. You know, a lot of people come by, but not him. He was alone like… 4 times. And he only wanted to talk to Mum and Dad, then he talked to Charles. Once or twice there were a lot of people here. I saw Sirius, Remus, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Bones… Neville’s parents. Oh! And I saw Tonks! Do you remember her? She just left Hogwarts and she’s an Auror trainee now and so cool! She came with Mr. Moody. I think I saw Mr. Dodge with them too, but there were more people I didn’t know. They were in the living room talking. It was not a party or at least I don’t think so. They wanted me to leave the room.”

Now, that was interesting. Why would such a meeting be held in the Cottage? He knew that their cottage was a lot bigger than most ordinary houses, but this mysterious gathering was still something new. And why the Aurors and big Dumbledore supporters? There wasn’t much going on politically, because he would know, being around the Corners and the Goldsteins, who not only had seats in Wizengamot but were using them actively. Lord Goldstein specifically liked to tell them about the current state of politics in Britain. Anthony told them it was his father’s hobby and that he believed that it was better to be aware of it than oblivious and easy to manipulate.

Something was going on, Hadrian was curious. _Curiosity is insubordination in its purest form,_ said Vladimir Nabokov, and sometimes indeed it was, but at the same time _curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour,_ wrote Victor Hugo. Although Hadrian didn’t particularly like the author of Lolita, which made his skin crawl, or Les Misérables, he agreed with both stances on curiosity.

Anne looked a bit guilty, and that was telling.

“So, what did you overhear?” he asked with a neutral tone. Her green eyes got really wide and she looked at him surprised. She looked a lot like their mother. There was a bit of James, but eyes, hair, and body build were all Lily. “What? You made a face and it was clear. You are not the best liar around, Anne.”

“Okay, so… I might have nicked one of the twins’ new inventions… I left them five Sickles, so it wasn’t stealing! It’s called Expendable Ears and you can eavesdrop with them, even if someone cast a silencing spell. But only the standard one because George told me they tested them against stronger things and they heard nothing.”

That seemed to be a curious piece of magic and brilliant spellwork. “Can I see it later?”

“I’ll show you, but you know, it’s a secret.” Hadrian nodded and she continued. “So, I was curious after the third time and when Mum said I had to play by myself and leave, I used them to eavesdrop. I hid the ear behind the big flower by the door and I was in the kitchen, but it worked just fine. They were talking about Minister Riddle. The Headmaster called him the Dark Lord. And they were talking about some prophecy. I don’t remember word by word, but it was about someone born at the end of July when the seventh month dies, I think, who was marked by the Dark Lord as someone worthy. And this person will have the power to save the world from him, because if one lives, then others can’t or something like that. That was scary! Oh! If one lives, the other can’t survive. And Professor Dumbledore told them it was something Sybilla Trela…something said.”

Sybill Trelawney. Hadrian was unimpressed. Anne seemed really bothered by this so-called prophecy but he wouldn’t trust anything this woman said. Nobody believed she was actually a seer or a prophet, and that wasn’t because of the Cassandra Curse. She was just an odd madwoman and from what he had heard, Hadrian wouldn’t put it past her to lie in order to get or to keep her job.

“She’s a teacher at Hogwarts. Sybill Trelawney,” he told his sister. “But remember what Remus told us about Rita Skeeter and her creative articles? I would treat Trelawney the same. All she does is remind everyone she’s the granddaughter of a famous seer and tell everybody she knows how to open the inner eye. She also tells someone in each year they would die soon and nobody died or was harmed… yet. But no one is treating her seriously. I don’t know why they do.”

“It didn’t make a lot of sense, because there was also a part about defying three times. And the Headmaster told them, that the parents of the child should defy the Dark Lord three times, but that seems stupid. Our parents don’t know Minister Riddle. They were talking about you, Charles and Neville. Charles’… due date? I don’t know what it is. But his due date was your birthday and he was born two weeks early. Anyway, Mum said there weren’t any attacks or strange things happening. The Headmaster told her that the Dark Lord is gathering power and searching for a way to become immortal. He also was telling them that Minister Riddle is Lord Slytherin? And Dad then said he was evil and wanted all Muggleborns dead. Professor spoke about some proof that there is a dark organization.”

“It’s common knowledge that the Minister is also Lord Slytherin and Lord Gaunt.” Hadrian was even more unimpressed. “He’s also parselmouth and has a familiar, which is a snake. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s a talent from a bloodline.” Was Dumbledore forming… a resistance movement? Underground one at the same time? It seemed very surreal and irrational, but Hadrian was aware of Dumbledore’s hatred for the darker spectrum of magic.

 _To him who is in fear everything rustles,_ said Sophocles, but he also remembered words of Cervantes, _fear has many eyes and can see things underground._ Hadrian didn’t know about Dumbledore, but James always seemed to hate everything dark and tried to plant a fear for the dark in them from early childhood, but he didn’t know anything about what he called dark. At least, not about every single thing. Hadrian was aware there were truly horrible people, spells, rituals, means to torture and kill, but lumping it all together with wandless magic or a traditional way of living was like naming all humans murderers. In Hadrian’s mind, James feared what he didn’t know, and that made him hear the rustle where there wasn’t anything that could swish.

“I didn’t tell Charlie, because he hadn’t told me what they told him. So... what do we do?” asked Anne and Hadrian looked at her before shrugging.

“We will pretend we know nothing,” he proposed. “It’s not like you want to go tell them you overheard them speaking and ask to explain.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to Mum and Dad.”

“They will be careful.” Hadrian almost said _nothing will happen_ , but he restrained himself in time. He knew that their parents were powerful wizards, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think, there weren’t more powerful or cunning people. His father was an Auror, which was a dangerous occupation not only for him but for them too. There was a reason why wards only allowed people his parents accepted in. James Potter could leave for work one day and not return. Circle, they could go out and not return too. It could make one paranoid about safety, Hadrian understood that point.

“So… do you want to see what Remus is doing in the kitchen and play chess later?” Anne looked at him with a hopeful expression.

Hadrian agreed, he didn’t mind that much if this was only his sister and him. Of course, eventually he got tired of her chatter and letting her win sometimes in silly games, but she always treated him normally when they were alone. With the Weasleys she often watched from the sidelines like Neville, but Hadrian cared for her and understood she didn’t want to get hurt. Ginny actually liked her, and she wasn’t allowed to make friends outside of family friends yet, so she was really insecure about the friendships she made. After all she had seen how they started to treat Hadrian and he could be fine with her wanting nothing like that. It was hard to stand up for yourself when you were lonely.

As it turned out later, Remus had moved in for a while, because Sirius had been on a mission on the continent and wasn’t meant to return until November. It seemed to be calming for James, since he had someone to discuss work with him and help him blow off steam if it was needed, so Hadrian got to enjoy himself in his room working on Runes or reading a copy of Machiavelli’s _Art of War._

Like Anne said when he came back, James was out nearly for days only coming to sleep a bit. It got suspicious after a while, but Hadrian doubted it was Dumbledore’s business that kept him busy. He and Anne tested the Expendable Ears again to eavesdrop their mother and Remus talking about the hard case. On the other hand, Lily got a large project with Severus, so she was often out too. Charles popped in for a while, but he seemed absorbed with whatever he was doing with the twins. Hadrian really couldn’t believe his luck.

Remus tried hard to make the situation as close to normal as he could, but he had problems too. He had been distracted, notoriously tired, and sad. Hadrian had seen it and he could tell that Anne was aware as well. She tried to pull Remus into her schemes, often asking for stories about Hogwarts or teaching her a bit of magic. It helped for a while, but after dinner, when they had to go to sleep, Remus had this look on his face again. Something was changing, and Hadrian wasn’t sure if he was going to like the outcome. He and his sister haven’t overheard anything about it. He could ask but he also knew Remus wouldn’t tell him. Hadrian understood that. After all, he wouldn’t tell Remus about certain things too.

Hadrian went with his mother and Anne to buy schoolbooks in Diagon Alley, but he didn’t stick to them at all. Getting Lily to let him wander alone was hard but not overly so when Anne monopolized her attention. He promised to stay in the Alley, not talk to strangers, and to meet her by the Leaky Cauldron at five, which gave him roughly four and a half hours to do what he pleased. There wasn’t much to buy for him anyway. They had a huge stock of potion ingredients at home, he didn’t grow much in last year and his potion equipment was as good as new.

He started with Flourish and Blotts, where he bought his books for the second year and considered buying some additional textbooks, but he decided against it. After all, when it came to textbooks, Hogwarts’ library should have them in spades, so he hadn’t needed to spend money on them. He had talked Remus into charming his bag to be bottomless and weightless, that he could carry around as many books as he liked, but arranged the books to be sent to the cottage anyway. His mother didn’t have to know about it and he was sure that Remus either forgot or thought he told her.

He was about to leave when someone called out to him and he turned around to be faced with Theodore.

“Hello, are you shopping for school?” Theodore asked. He seemed pleased to see him, although Hadrian didn’t know him good enough to tell if it was just pleasantries or not.

“Hello. I managed to talk my mother into leaving me alone, but she’s shopping somewhere with Anemone,” Hadrian answered. He wasn’t too happy about the meeting, but he doubted his mother would recognize Theodore for a Nott if she saw them. “How was your summer?” he inquired politely. He talked to Nott maybe five hours once on the train, so he didn’t exactly know how to act around him.

“Good enough I suppose. I spend a lot of time in the library because Father wasn’t pleased with my ranking but I liked it there. Then he brought me with him to Paris and I spend two weeks with the Malfoys. And what about you?”

“I spend a month and a bit with the Corners, but I stayed with the Goldsteins for two weeks too. It was nice, Lord Goldstein allowed me and Terry to use the library.” Something in his answer must have been telling because Theodore seemed really intrigued and was about to ask something when they were interrupted by someone. Oh, sweet Circle. Theodore was fine but there was no way his mother wouldn’t recognize Lord Nott.

“Lord Nott,” he greeted him at the same time Theodore did with ‘ _Father’_.

“This is Hadrian Potter of the Noble House of Potter, Father,” Theodore introduced him.

Hadrian fought the need to look away or hide. Lord Nott looked at him inquisitively. His whole presence radiated with power and he himself was towering over Hadrian with his large body. He had broad shoulders and such a strong build, he looked like a dangerous fighter from Muggle movies. Yet his eyes were calm and calculating.

“I heard about you from Lord Goldstein,” the Lord said. He had a surprisingly calming voice, deep and strong but nice to the ear. Theodore shared his dark coloring and pale skin. “He’s very impressed with you and if he’s speaking the truth, then you are quite a surprise, Mr. Potter. Hopefully, you’ll stay on the right way.” Hadrian didn’t know an answer to that, but Lord Nott was apparently done with him. “Theodore, my presence is needed in the Ministry. Finish your shopping with Mr. Potter here. I shall be back for you soon, and if it becomes too long, you know what to do. Goodbye, Mr. Potter.”

Hadrian said the customary goodbye back, but his mind was already preoccupied with what Lord Nott said and what he didn’t. He gave Theodore outright and clear permission to associate with him. It was quite unnerving. Lord Goldstein talked about him, hopefully not to people which could speak with his father and tell him what Hadrian has been up to. The thought made him anxious.

“Lord Goldstein is a great friend of my father. I think he was really worried about the celebration and he asked my father for input. We have a much more… diverse collection in our library,” explained Theodore, which helped Hadrian get a grip on himself. It was nice to know it was during a private conversation, and Lord Nott wasn’t particularly social, rather a loner in social circles, so maybe this year Lughnasadh at the Corner Manor wasn’t talk of the season. Regardless, it didn't guarantee anything. The die was cast and the outcome was left to chance. “Father asked if I knew you, so I told him about our way home from Hogwarts. He told me you may be a good acquaintance to have in the future.” Well, the world of wizards was about power and prestige. Hadrian could accept that in the eyes of Lord Nott, he had the potential to be not only influential but useful with his gift.

But then, if he decided to forget about his father and make a name for himself, he ought to have some connections which can elevate him a bit or make life easier in the beginning. From what he heard, the Notts were a dark family with a good look in investments. Theodore was intelligent and had tutors from a young age, so he was also knowledgeable where Hadrian probably lacked… And he wasn’t as pompous as Malfoy could be. No, Theodore overall was nice and polite.

“Well, I bought my schoolbooks, but I want to search for some more in Obscurus Books and maybe later in Second-Hand. Do you want to go with me?”

“In Second-Hand?” Theodore asked and looked a bit repulsed by the idea of going inside the shop offering something second hand.

“I want something interesting to read. Some people don’t appreciate good books and throw them away or sell their late relatives’ collections for close to nothing. I once saw the second edition of _Harvesting the Dread_.” This changed Theodore’s opinion almost immediately.

“Do you have it?!” He looked really excited by the prospect.

“Because smuggling such a book, when you are shopping with your Auror Father is such a good idea. I hid it under some recipes but I doubt it’s still here,” Hadrian said and Nott busted into a laugh at the thickly laid sarcasm. “But now I have means to hide certain types of books, so I will buy it if I see it again,” he admitted quietly with a smile. 

“Let’s go then. I am done here too.”

And that was how Hadrian had spent his afternoon in the company of Theodore Nott. He still looked out for his mother and Nott eventually caught on but didn’t comment on it in any way. He turned out to be quick-witted, funny in the dry sense. Nott also didn’t mind his quietness and tendency to drift away with his thoughts because he himself wasn’t the most talkative person around. Comfortable silence suited them both just fine when they were searching through hundreds of books.

They hadn’t found _Harvesting the Dread_ but two interesting titles about Ancient Runes, which Hadrian bought and put in his expendable bag. Technically, it was Theodore’s find but he gave it up with a smile, saying they had the newest versions in his Manor. That was a bit weird because copies they found were published before some laws were passed, so they had certain fragments the newest hadn’t… But Hadrian wasn’t the one to refuse new books and he didn’t dwell on it for long.

“You know those books are in the dark grey area?” asked Theodore, when Hadrian’s time almost run out and he had to go meet his mother and sister.

“But they are also interesting and offer curious insight. I like Runes and I think I want to be a Rune Master or work in warding. In professions like that knowledge is power,” Hadrian was a curious person. Just like that, he didn’t care from where or who knowledge came from if it answered his questions or made him understand magic better.

Theodore seemed to be content with his answer and he didn’t ask additional questions, but Hadrian noticed he looked more comfortable like he had held himself back before. Maybe he was fearing that he will find some limit which will make Hadrian run from him? It wasn’t unbelievable when you knew how the Potters were, even if Theodore was aware that Hadrian wasn’t exactly like them. They weren’t friends nor did they spend a lot of time together.

“I’ll see you on the train or in Hogwarts,” said Nott, and Hadrian inclined his head in farewell.

An idea crossed his mind when he was walking to the Leaky Cauldron. He had to learn to cast the Notice-Me-Not spell on himself. It wasn’t a hard spell but it would be useful to have someone to test the effects. There wasn’t anyone like that in the Cottage, so he would have to wait till he reached Hogwarts. Maybe disillusionment charms too because they were quite similar and would be damn useful. He wouldn’t have to worry about someone spotting him in places like Diagon Alley with someone he shouldn’t talk to. Maybe a way to mask his magic signature too? He was aware of a spell that tracked down magical signatures used by Aurors in their cases but he didn’t know the name or origin. He doubted he’ll find it in Hogwarts’ library, at least not in the public section. He would have to apply for the pass to the Forbidden Section and that wouldn’t do. It would bring unnecessary attention to him.

Someday he had to hunt down a big compendium of spells with a broad spectrum of applications or a few smaller ones. He had a lot of books on magical theory and runes, but he lacked actual spells that weren’t taught in class. He had to admit, he had a bigger repertoire of spells only because he read a lot of schoolbooks in the library but nothing of that was special or unusual for a Hogwarts student. He limited himself and his studies. That rubbed him the wrong way. On the other hand, a lot of spells could be out of his reach at this point. He preferred to back up his spellwork with solid theory and he didn’t have that much time to spare for continuously learning new spells, even if he thought that would be something fascinating to do. He didn’t know that much about magic in general, he was only twelve after all.

*

“Potter, Anemone!”

Hadrian observed from his seat at the Ravenclaw table as his younger sister climbed up the stairs and sat on the stool. McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head and not even half a minute later it yelled loud and clear _HUFFLEPUFF._ He knew it already and the shock on her face would be hilarious if he didn’t know how afraid she was of being sorted somewhere else than Gryffindor. He smiled and clapped with the Hufflepuff table. She searched for him in the crowd when she went to sit down, so he waved at her slightly. Anne smiled back shakily.

“You aren’t surprised,” whispered Terry from his left. He recently had his hair cut into a new hairstyle, a clean undercut with longer hair on top. He often combed them back so nothing would get into his eyes. It looked good on him. 

“I know my sister. She’s as Hufflepuff as you can get, although she wanted to be in Gryffindor. She’s not happy but at least there is Hannah and Susan who she knows... It would be best if she meets new people though.”

“Why?”

“She was mostly limited to the Weasleys,” he answered Anthony’s question and fell silent because the Sorting was slowly ending. Soon Dumbledore stood up for his usual speech, warnings towards entering the Forbidden Forest, and introduced the new Defense Against Dark Arts professor… “What.”

“My father wrote to the Board when he heard who will be teaching us,” said Michael. “Didn’t you know he will be here? It was written in the letter.”

“I didn’t pay much attention to it,” he admitted. “We worked through most of the second year books, so I just gave the list to the shop assistant. I wondered why there were so many of his books, but I assumed the new teacher was a fan of his fiction.” Because Gilderoy Lockhart was a fiction writer, not a scholar or a teacher.

“Father said the Board wasn’t too happy with Dumbledore's choice but they couldn’t intervene. It’s a year long contract anyway,” Anthony told them. “I feel sorry for the OWL and NEWT years because it must suck to have an incompetent teacher. I looked up if you can self-study a subject but it’s only possible after OWLs so we are stuck in his classroom.”

“We can always study in the library or make a study group,” proposed Terry. Hadrian looked up from his plate filled with broccoli, cauliflower, and a bit of chicken. He wasn’t happy to study with people he didn’t know or didn’t like. “Of course, a private one. Us and maybe the girls?”

“I don’t really want to deal with Granger.” Anthony looked like he would rather exchange his plates with Hadrian for the rest of the year than spend an afternoon with Granger. He always commented Hadrian ate so plainly and only certain dishes and tried to make him try new ones. Hadrian hadn’t eaten a single thing placed on his plate by Anthony so far. He was really stubborn about his eating habits. He liked what he liked and that was it.

“I just realized… Let’s invite Theodore and maybe Greengrass with Davis?” he proposed when the topic resurfaced after they reached their dorms. Slytherins sometimes gave Granger a hard time, so she wouldn’t sit with them if she had a choice. 

They had chosen to sit in Terry’s and his room to avoid the introduction speech and ruckus in the common room.

Michael seemed stunned.

“Theodore? Did you hear it, boys? He called him _Theodore_ ,” he said with awe in his voice. “Hadrian, did you make a friend? All by yourself?”

“Oh, stuff it,” Hadrian murmured. His face got warm and he knew he was blushing. “I just met him in Diagon Alley, when mother took Anne shopping, and we spent the afternoon looking for books in Obscurus and the Second-Hand shop.” He didn’t want to mention Lord Nott and he still didn’t know how he felt about that situation.

“It sounds suspiciously like a date,” teased Terry and Hadrian’s face burned.

“It wasn’t a date. We are twelve,” he protested quietly, staring at his lap and playing with his fingers. He was doing it a lot lately and he sometimes caught himself while at it.

He didn’t care about things like that right now. Logically, he knew that somewhere in the future he probably will but now? Now it seemed like an alien concept. Dating, liking someone, someone liking _him_. He wanted to read, learn, maybe mess around a little with spells… not worry about another human being who maybe will stay in his life and maybe not. Was it weird? That he didn’t even entertain an idea of dating? He remembered the embarrassing talk with his mother about puberty and dating. She talked in a very clinical way, for what he was thankful, but she did tell him that everyone matured in their own tempo. Hadrian knew this too. Maybe he was just slow.

“Not too early to look for potential betrothal contracts. A lot of families are leaving it for later if they’re not particularly traditional. It will start for good when we reach fourteen and fifteen. By seventeen there will be left only those who have a free hand in picking their spouse, don’t practice betrothal contracts, or don’t care. But now is a good time to look for… options, if you will,” said Anthony calmly like he was speaking about the weather outside or quality of the served tea.

“I don’t know anything about those contracts, I need a book on this,” Hadrian told them in hope of diverting their attention. Books and pure knowledge were always a good choice on that.

“I think that a good book on courting will be needed too. You never know, but I would like to be aware of how to react and not offend anyone, even if to let them down gently and without making it a family feud,” added Terry. And he was right. In his mission to know the wizarding tradition, Hadrian couldn’t leave out courting just because it didn’t interest him.

“My parents won’t be arranging any contracts in my name.” Hadrian could bet, they hadn’t thought about it once in their lives. They both were firm believers in meeting someone without it, falling in love and maybe adapting a few courting gifts, if it was romantic enough.

“Maybe they won’t but you still can accept offered contract after your fifteenth birthday and they can’t void it.”

“I don’t think someone will bother with Potter’s second son,” he blurted out. He sounded too calm and uncaring even for himself. Detached, if someone wanted specification, but he did think that nobody would bother. Especially because he couldn’t imagine himself doing any kind of first move. Maybe because he was only in his second year but he doubted it would change in the next three or even ten years. He wasn’t well known, he didn’t wish to be, he wasn’t an heir and people thought him crazy or weird…

The pillow, which hit him hard in the face, was unexpected. He looked at Anthony, shocked into silence, and then when he wasn’t looking Michael smacked his arm not sparing any strength.

“Are you serious? Not only are you ridiculously pretty but also really intelligent and talented. Everyone should be grateful to have you,” said Anthony with such a conviction and certainty that Hadrian was almost tempted to believe him. He just couldn’t see himself in that way. It seemed wrong and unlike him. If not the look on Anthony’s face, Hadrian would think he said it only because he was his friend and felt obligated to do it.

“I am willing to bet that people will be fighting about you, and I will have to hex someone,” added Michael with a smile. It didn’t look happy or even polite but just plain sad. It didn’t reach his light blue eyes. Hadrian felt as if he was disappointing him in some way. Part of him wanted them to just drop the topic and move on to different ones because it made him uncomfortable and he didn’t know what to say.

“And they aren’t saying that because we are your friends, you know.” Terry was sitting on his bed. The duvet was piled on his lap. Anthony was laying on his stomach in front of him, resting head on his hands. His normally combed back dirty blond hair was all over the place, falling into his hazel eyes.

For a while, there was only silence, and for some reason, it made everything only worse.

“So do we bring Slytherins into our study group or we don’t?” Hadrian said evenly, not caring that it was the worst change of topic in his history. He could live with them knowing he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “We could also learn Notice-Me-Not or a disillusionment charm but it’ll take some time to perfect it. I want to learn it anyway since I was worried about someone seeing me with people I shouldn’t talk to.”

“I don’t mind them,” answered Anthony after a short while. “And I think that it would be actually ingenious. We’ll be able to talk about a study group, Granger wouldn’t join in and at the same time won’t be able to complain to the professors about anything because it still would be an open study group. Would you talk to them, Hadrian?”

“I might. We have potions together, haven’t we?” This year’s timetable was quite wonderful. They had one class with Gryffindors, three with Slytherins, and the rest with Hufflepuffs. “Astronomy and Charms too.”

“And we tell the girls tomorrow morning, so we can start at the end of the week. Have any of you actually read all of Lockhart’s books?”

“I flipped through it.” Michael shrugged. “It wasn’t educational at all.”

“It was offending,” said Terry with clear distaste.

“My godfathers’ partner, Remus, told me it was a quite good book for children to read before sleep, but an abysmal textbook. The first book reminded me a bit of Muggle fiction, I read a chapter and flipped through the rest.”

“I thought your godfather is a bachelor!” The longer Hadrian knew him, the more gossipy Anthony became. It was mainly for his own amusement, he liked just knowing things. An absolute hoarder of useless insight into other people’s lives. Hadrian couldn’t help but indulge him a little.

“To the public eye he is because Walburgia Black would arrange his end and throw the weight of the Black name around if the press finds out about her son being involved in a long term relationship with a werewolf from a minor magical family.” Nobody minded too much when it was not a piece of public knowledge. Hadrian could think of reasons why Sirius humored her even if he was independent, living in his own house, and didn’t contact his family on a daily basis if at all. He always preached how wretched and awful his parents were and how crazy and evil his cousins got with age. The only family members Sirius cared about was his younger brother Regulus, with whom he met from time to time, and Andromeda, who eloped with Ted Tonks, a Muggleborn. “I don’t think that Sirius cares much about himself but more about Remus. If Arcturus Black wanted to, he could push anti-werewolf regulation just to spite them. And if not this, he could easily make life harder for them by ensuring Remus wouldn’t keep a job. But I don’t think he cares that much. It’s mostly Sirius’s mother or so it seems. She can do a lot herself just with her name.”

“That’s a good reason to keep quiet.” Anthony nearly winced. “I wouldn’t want the Blacks after me.”

“Nobody in their right mind would,” stated Michael like it was obvious. “Speaking about the Blacks, did you write to your grandmother?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet. But I doubt I’ll write to her soon. I don’t know what and how.” It wasn’t a good explanation but the only one Hadrian could give at that moment. They hadn’t pressed on him in that matter, although sometimes asked if he did or thought about it. That was something he adored about his friends. “Speaking about writing,” he began, copying Michael, “did you figure out what you wanted, Terry? You said you have to check something.”

“Actually, I did!” Terry got out of bed to dive into his trunk. He almost stuck his entire head in there, when he rummaged through his belongings. “I had an idea and I asked Dad. He told me that in the theory it should be possible, but it’s my mother who has Charm Mastery. So I researched the spells and went to her… And she charmed those for me because there was quite a lot of layering involved in the process,” he talked while he searched and soon he pulled few thin notebooks out of his trunk. “I have chosen planners because they don’t look suspicious at all and everyone is expecting to see them in Ravenclaw’s hands.”

Hadrian sat straighter on his bed and Michael crawled through his bedding to his side where he sat beside him.

“So, what does it do?”

“It allows us to communicate. There is a simple charm to bind the planner to your magic signature. From this point, only you will be able to read it, and everyone else will see a plain planner. If you write something on the page with _notes_ above, it will show in the rest of the planners in the same place, so we can talk. There are a few pages titled notes but all you write will vanish a couple of minutes after you read it.”

“I love magic,” whispered Hadrian. It was a truly genius idea. No one will suspect anything and they could talk for hours. The distance won’t matter, the lack of owls too. Michael and Anthony looked no less impressed by Terry’s planners.

“I had tried to find a way to, for example, allow me to talk only with Anthony but it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I asked my mother to secure the… I named it the communication charm sequence, so we can experiment a little and not destroy it. I’ve written down the process of making those, so with time we can make more or update it… or something else.”

Terry gave each one of them their own planner. They looked elegant but ordinary in a way that wouldn’t raise any suspicion.

“I can place an anti-theft charm on them just in case,” Hadrian offered. He doubted someone would want to steal it for the sake of its worth but if someone was curious about what was written there… They looked at him surprised. “Half of my family is Aurors… And my mother is often placing this charm on the most important things when we go out in a crowded place. She told me, she was robbed once when she was in Hogwarts and she didn’t even notice her allowance being taken, and then from this time she formed the habit of charming her purse and jewelry. I have seen her doing it, so I tried by myself when Charles wanted to take my things to charm and prank me. It worked just fine.”

He took out his wand. Although he preferred to do this one without it, he hadn’t told them he could do wandless magic at all. He instantly felt wrong and guilty about it. They shared almost everything with him. They never made him doubt any of them in any way. He tried to treat them the same but it was so _hard_.

Hadrian knew he lived more in his head than on the outside. He thought a lot, pondered over things, had whole conversations with himself but it was all in the confines of his own mind. It was taxing and tiring when he pushed himself to voice his opinions, participate in their discussions or talk them through his thought process when sometimes he would prefer to let himself sink into his mind and never leave his room. He was a problem. James’ words still ricocheted in his head sometimes, when those feelings were particularly bad and bothering. Maybe he really was retarded or damaged.

And then there was this thing that Hadrian never had people like them in his life. He never could just be comfortable and relax because someone was willing to accept him the way he was. There always were expectations and images to keep up. He never shared much of himself, he hadn’t had anyone who would want to know him. He internalized a lot, it was bad and he knew it the moment he felt instant ease when he had confided in his friends. Adding that to his introvert character helped him build frightfully impressive walls around himself. Hadrian didn’t have a single idea how to work around them. It sometimes made him feel so alone he just wanted to curl up in himself and sleep it off but he couldn’t do it forever. Sometimes it was causing him to feel so frustrated with himself, he wanted to hit something. He… really didn’t know what to do with it, with himself, and at times, with his future too.

He knew he had a tendency to work himself up over different things and in the end most of this worry was pointless. Hadrian was aware he was imagining only bad scenarios. Despite it, he couldn't stop thinking that they would be mad at him if they learned that he hadn't told them for a year about his wandless magic and how many things he had taught himself to do without his wand.

He flinched hard when Michael touched his shoulder. He almost dropped his wand, but he had held it firmly, so it only swished through the air sharply.

“I am sorry,” Michael almost immediately apologized but hadn’t moved his hand from Hadrian’s shoulder. “You got lost in your mind again, I tried to call you but you hadn’t heard me.” He looked worried, all of them looked worried but stayed patient with him. They waited for him to gather his thoughts and speak, it always took him a minute to do that after he wandered off too far.

It was this moment, where they sat there patiently, waiting for him, not judging, calm, and not condescending when he finally decided.

“I tried to remember the movement of the wand but I think I would prefer to cast it wandless. I remember it better that way,” he said plainly. He left his wand on the side, took his planner and then just casted the spell, watching the process carefully to ensure it had the proper color, and magic washed over the planner the way it should. “Try to take it from me,” he instructed Michael, who sat the closest to him.

Michael obediently picked up the planner, but his fingers moved through him as if through the air. Hadrian nodded to himself satisfied with the result.

“I can do them all. No one will pick it up or summon them with a spell.”

“… did I just see him casually charming the planner with non-verbal, wandless magic like he was just doing it every other day?” asked Anthony.

“I think so because I saw it too…” answered Terry with a stunned expression on his face. He handed his planner over when Hadrian extended his hand for it and watched amazed as it was charmed. Anthony and Michael hadn’t waited to give him theirs. It was harder because he had to focus on tying the spell to their signature but he managed to do this quickly, willing the colors to merge together purely by instinct.

The silence after was a slightly unnerving and overwhelming so Hadrian ended it.

“Well, I don’t use wandless magic every day and I can’t do anything more complicated than straightforward spells.”

“But… how.” Terry obviously didn’t know what to say.

“I was curious what was so dark about wandless magic and if I could do it but mostly to spite my father.”

Anthony’s laugh had a hysteric edge to it, but Michael busted into laughter after him and it was much more cheerful, as was Terry’s.

“Only you, Hadrian, only you would learn wandless magic to spite your father,” Michael said between fits of laughter.

“Don’t you ever change, our lives would be utterly boring,” requested Terry, sitting beside him and throwing an arm over his shoulders. He must have felt how tense Hadrian was because he rubbed his arm delicately. It made Hadrian’s eyes water a bit. He couldn’t tell why but for some reason it hit him harder than it should. He didn’t want to cry right now before them.

“I just have to hear this story. How did you manage it? My tutor tried to teach me but I was hopeless at this,” prompted Michael.

“I want to hear it too. I couldn’t do anything when they tried to teach me. We had the same tutor with Michael and he said we lacked the talent for wandless magic.”

“I doubt you lack it,” said Hadrian. His voice wasn’t shaky for which he was grateful and he had found something to focus on instead of his emotions. “You are purebloods, aren’t you? I am sure you could do it. I just don’t think it’s something you can learn but you can train yourself to do it.” He already had their attention but now it was unwavering. 

“For a long time, Anne, Anemone, didn’t show any accidental magic, you know. Charles was five when they had noticed something, I was three. Anne was seven. It was on her birthday and my parents were relieved. Healers told them that everything was alright, she had magic, she was just a late bloomer, but I think they were nervous anyway. She summoned a teddy bear or something like that. I don’t exactly remember what it was. The point is, I asked father if it was possible to do accidental magic like this on purpose. He told me that summoning something without a wand is wandless magic but soon followed with a big lecture. The usual, it’s something purebloods do to defy the ministerial ban, it’s associated with dark magic, it’s probably evil, dangerous and I shouldn’t even think about it _or else_. I think I tried to summon a toy or a pencil the same night he told me this when I was alone in my room. 

Of course, nothing happened. But I was stubborn and I sometimes had bursts of accidental magic even at eight. I remembered the feeling of magic rushing through my body. You have to remember it at first to know for what to reach out, I think, and know that it’s you who commands magic not your wand. I didn’t have a wand then, so… I… Well, I tried to focus this magic in my veins to do what I wanted it to do but this was the hardest part. Normally, you have a wand to focus your magic, we all know that. With wandless magic, your mind is a tool to focus this magic. It’s hard, a lot harder than you would think but it gets easier with time. That’s why I said I don’t think it’s something you learn but something you train yourself to do. Because you have to practice this. A lot. You have to train yourself to forget about other media like wands and then train yourself to channel magic because it’s a matter of long practice. It’s not difficult because of any amount of magic you have to have, no. It’s difficult because it requires patience, self-discipline and a lot of trying. I think it’s even harder when you are used to casting with your wand. I don’t really think about the flow of my magic when I am using my wand. We just cast the spell and trust it to channel our power to the outside but we forget the magic is channeled through our bodies before it reaches the wand. Or at least I think it works like that.”

“It makes so much sense,” said Anthony. His face showed undisguised delight. “No one ever explained it like this. At least not the tutor my father hired. He never said it was a long process or to be patient with it. He just told me to focus and do it. How long did it take you to cast your first spell?”

“I honestly don’t remember but maybe two weeks or three? I didn’t know exactly what to do, so I suppose it took longer than it would with a competent instructor.”

“Do you think you can teach us?” asked Michael. “Or watch over our progress. I want to be able to do it.” There was a fire in his eyes. Pure contained determination and a dash of greed. Hadrian sometimes wondered why his friend was in Ravenclaw. Of course, he was intelligent, a true genius with potions and quick learner but he hadn’t seemed to have a thirst for knowledge. Now he could see clearly why.

“I am not exactly qualified to teach something like that. Everything I told you was my observations, don’t take it as a fact,” he tried to tell them. He wasn’t a teacher. “I don’t know if I managed to do wandless magic because of pure luck or not. It could be it, you know.”

“We’ll call it Hadrian’s theory and test it,” stated Terry. “We’ll write down the assumptions, and then we will conduct tests and note the conclusions. We can also research if someone ever wrote a book on this.”

“I am sure I didn’t discover anything new.”

“But you could discover a new methodology of teaching,” Anthony cut him off, when Hadrian took a breath to say something else. “I haven’t heard of anyone training themselves in such a way and I have been reading a lot of books mentioning it when my father hired a tutor. It all mention just wandless magic being a fact, describe uses, sometimes there is a paragraph on the importance of focusing on the task, so you won’t blow up anything in the process. The popular belief states it’s hereditary talent. Either you have it or not. If you’ll prove different… That would be big.”

“I am twelve. I am sure I have not enough knowledge to make breakthroughs in magical theory. All I said was a plain observation.”

“Sometimes breakthroughs are just a unique observation. Laws of magic are discovered not made,” reminded Michael. “It’s like potions inventions. It’s a creative process, but most of the time it’s not as much creating new ingredients as finding new uses or properties. When someone brings new ingredients, it’s a discovery, and new potions are created because of something that existed before.”

The atmosphere was tense when Hadrian wasn’t nearly as elated with what he said as his friends.

“I thought we’d save the big thing for our seventh year project,” began Terry teasingly. Hadrian adored that boy. “And here we are. I am truly scared of what’s next.”

“At least we aren’t Gryffindors and we don’t venture to battle… I don’t know, a Basilisk,” Michael teased back.

Hadrian would take testing theories over fighting a Basilisk without a question. Where do you even _find_ a Basilisk in their time period, certainly not under the school?

*

Anne frequently came up to him in the library or in the corridor just to talk or tell him about Hufflepuff. She confided in him that she thought no one was happy with her sorting when the letters came but she made a lot of new friends. Susan and Hannah talked to her a lot and she gushed how close to _the kitchen_ their dorms were. It made Hadrian calmer, she was in good hands.

Theodore Nott came to the first study group meeting alone and with a closed-off expression on his face. He introduced himself to Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turpin politely, without any disdain over Lisa being even less than half-blood with her Muggleborn father and Muggle mother. It clearly helped her feel more comfortable and definitely less shy about voicing her opinion or asking questions. Around the middle of their meeting, she stopped messing with her light brown hair cut into a short bob in, which Hadrian guessed, a stress habit. 

Hadrian had known Mandy since he was seven or eight and sat next to Lisa in Charms, so he wasn’t as restrained in their presence as he would be if they were completely new people to him. He probably still was a lot quieter than normal because Michael and Anthony started engaging him in their discussions or asking his opinions on things he knew they didn’t need confirmation on. It stressed him out for some reason. Not because he was afraid of saying something wrong or admitting he didn’t know but because he really hadn’t wanted to space off. In the last month he often thought of it as something embarrassing when earlier it seemed natural and normal. He knew his friends hadn’t minded but other people? Hadrian was a bit wary of their reaction. It made him antsy.

To their second study session, Theodore brought with him Daphne and Tracey, which guaranteed two half an hour long gossip breaks, a lot more of silencing spells than last time and they had to move to a bigger table in the library. All of them thought Lockhart was an abysmal teacher but they were divided in opinions if he had any experience in the field at all. It led to Tracey telling them she heard rumors about him asking around about a wizard who had a run in with a Lethifold, which was featured in the fifth book he published. Lisa couldn’t believe it was true but for Hadrian it was a possibility with how bad Lockhart was in DADA.

“Oh sweet Circle, don’t raise your heads,” said Mandy while forcing herself not to laugh. She had a nice smile and she laughed easily from what he knew about her. Mandy never liked to be in the center of attention either but she was better with it after a year in Ravenclaw. They wouldn’t even think about pointing out her being bigger, very short or not girly at all like her neighbor’s children used to. She once told him they were awful and her parents couldn’t stop them from calling her Miss Piggy because of her blond curls and baby blue eyes. “I just saw Granger walking in, looking for something and she saw us. She made a few steps, frowned, walked to her left to see who exactly sat here and she probably didn't see because she went into the aisle between bookcases. I think she’ll be looking at us from my right side but I can’t turn because it’ll be obvious.”

Daphne looked up from her book as discreetly as she could.

“Hadrian, could you move left? Just a bit?”

Hadrian moved as she asked instantly getting that she wanted it to seem like she was looking at him. It caused him to get closer to Terry but he didn’t mind even if their thighs were touching. Daphne had such a similar eye color to his, it was a bit weird to have them look nearly straight at his. It was better lighting this time than on the train and he could definitely tell her eyes were darker and a bit less intense.

“I see her. She’s looking at us like she wants to join in. Oh, she must have seen Theodore and me. Mother Magic, she actually blanched and looks angry.” She was narrating while looking completely natural and unassuming. Granger probably couldn’t tell if she was really looking and speaking to Hadrian and Terry or not, and she for sure couldn’t hear her. “She went further into the library.”

“Circle, I can’t believe your plan worked, Hadrian!” said Anthony between giggles. The three Slytherins, Mandy, and Lisa, all looked at him in surprise.

“I just proposed we ask you to join in,” Hadrian said looking at Slytherins, “because we don’t really like Granger and you are good study partners. Most of Ravenclaw ignore her but she sometimes just… force her way into conversations or group work.”

“We heard about her avoiding Slytherins,” added Anthony. “And Hadrian proposed you three, so it’s a real win-win situation.”

“But how would she know about the study group?” asked Tracey looking confused.

“It’s a thing in Ravenclaw. Flitwick encourages us to form study groups but they have to be open for everyone and you have to pin a note on the notice board with information, that it was formed, which year has formed it, for what it was and where the first two or three meetings were held. Then you can take it down. It aims to integrate students and broaden interests,” Mandy explained quickly.

“It’s also annoying because you can’t really forbid anyone to join in. Granger could go notify Flitwick and we would be losing points,” added Lisa.

“Would she want her House to lose points?” Theodore seemed to be puzzled by this and looked weirdly at Anthony, who shrugged.

“She wants to prove a point, I think,” commented Terry. “After the spectacle last year? Clearwater is still not even looking her way.”

“I heard about it from my father, he’s in the Board,” Daphne frowned and put away her quill. “Malfoy was telling Parkinson and everybody in hearing range what had happened. I always wondered how it ended.”

“Penelope got offended, Grangers’ roommate, Patil, got offended,” Anthony said while writing down the number of the page from _Standard Curses and Countercurses_ in his notes, “Flitwick tried to coerce them into talking with her but no one would do it because it never works, so in the end nothing really changed. Flitwick talked with her himself though and for a while everyone ignored her, she hung out with a couple of Muggleborn Hufflepuffs but then she offended Zacharias Smith and he isn’t afraid of striking back nastily... And then it was summer break and she came back with a new determination to make friends, which didn’t exactly work when you called everyone around you racists, sexist, or bigoted, offended their traditions and belief et cetera.”

Tracey looked scandalized but both Daphne and Theodore had similar expressions of overt reluctance and disdain. Hadrian started to associate this certain expression with pureblood families when someone did something unbecoming because sometimes Anthony or Michael made this particular face too.

“What did your housemates do to make her avoid you all?” Lisa looked very interested but so did Mandy. They both leaned on the table as if it could make them hear better. Granger must have tried harder to make friends with them than anyone else in their year.

“I don’t really know what it was but I know for sure it was Parkinson and Bulstrode,” shared Theodore. “I heard them talking about it but I don’t know what they had done or said to her.”

Honestly, Hadrian wasn’t very much interested in this. He had a hunch that for Parkinson and Bulstrode whatever Granger said or done was as much good reason to strike as would be Granger simply existing. Neither he nor his friends knew them personally but people were still speaking and in Ravenclaw gossiping was considered a sport, so he had heard about them being rather nasty to anyone with less than perfect breeding. He hoped that no one would think about bringing them to the study group but it hadn’t seemed to be likely. In general, he hoped this to be a rather peaceful time without any useless drama involved but realistically thinking he also knew that students in Hogwarts thrived causing dramatics. As if there was too much free time.

Hadrian always organized his time to be filled with studying or spending time with Anthony, Michael, and Terry. Generally, it was both at the same time. Especially when they started on wandless magic, which wasn’t as simple as any of them thought. Terry admitted he had bursts of accidental magic till he was ten or so and he could remember the feeling. What’s more, he actually could feel his own magic and in three weeks he managed to feel it during casting. Anthony and Michael had more problems with getting a hold on this feeling, so Terry suggested meditation. Mr. Boot started him on this when he was a child to help him relax and it seemed helpful enough for them to try. It took two books on basics of Occlumency and meditation, another two weeks, and a lot of time for Anthony and then Michael to catch up to Terry. They had a whole stack of notes from this and he clearly remembered Michael’s face when he felt his magic channeling through his body to his wand. From this moment it was only practicing and training, which ought to take long and huge amounts of determination.

Adding to this, the Professors slowly started assigning more homework or longer essays. The Potions began to require more theoretical preparation before brewing, so they sometimes changed the topic of their study group from Defense to Potions. That was something that made him look at Michael, Mandy, Tracey, and Daphne with astonishment. They were brilliant with Potions and it was amazing to see Michael shine and speak with passion in his voice. On one occasion they worked on their Transfiguration, which was nice too, although no one could rival Anthony’s understanding of it.

Nearing December he thought of Lisa, Mandy, and the three Slytherins as of friends. Not even close to the kind of friendship he had with Anthony, Terry, and Michael but they weren’t simply acquaintances either. They hadn’t done or said anything which could make him dislike them, and Anthony told him once in their common room that Theodore and Daphne asked him if it was fine for them to touch him to gain his attention in case he wandered too far into his mind. It showed him two things, that they could be really considerate and that he couldn’t help himself or just stop spacing out. He knew it was noticeable, since Snape called him out in the letter to his Mother, but it was stronger than his will and more subconscious than he thought. It helped him relax more in their presence and he felt completely at ease when Ronald Weasley decided to show up. It made him think that December was a cursed month for him, designed to make him suffer.

It was a laughable coincidence that this day they started talking about Charms and then ended up talking specifically about a glamour charm, which casted wrong made the subject of the spell glow too. Hadrian stood up to choose a book, which would have explained the glamour charm better in theory, so they could use it as an example of a similar spell in the essay. He managed to approach the bookcase and take out _Charms Compendium for the Curious_. He was easily seen from the table because it was just about 5 feet away from the shelves.

“Move, Potter. Get out of my way, freak.”

“What do you think you are doing, Weasley?” said Anthony before Hadrian even opened his mouth, his voice was hostile and he pronounced Ronalds name like it was a curse.

Hadrian had his Curupira hair and Beechwood wand out before it even gained the potential to escalate more.

“Moving worthless things out of my way,” Weasley responded and looked down on him. He was easily the tallest boy in their year. “Did you see something funny lately?” he asked mockingly.

“He’s not worthy of an answer. Does he even read?” wondered Michael aloud. Oh, Circle, this was bad. Hadrian came back to the table trying to look unruffled by Ronalds’ words. He truly wasn’t bothered that much but confrontations with him made him nervous anyway.

“I bet his mother preferred to feed the more intelligent kids than try to teach him or hire someone to do so. You know, the ones who actually have the potential to do something,” said Daphne conversationally.

Hadrian’s _Protego_ blocked the spell without trouble. It probably was something like a Babbling Curse or a weak Bat-Bogey Hex because Ronald never casted anything even remotely harmful. Not because he didn’t want to actually cause harm but because he didn’t know anything like that.

There was one more spell hitting the barrier and it could have been a Stinging Jinx.

“Did you hear anything? I think some ghost was bored enough to come here instead of haunting the corridors,” Hadrian asked while starting to search for the glamour spell in the compendium. “I don’t think we should pay it any attention at all.”

“Why are you even with the Snakes?! What would your father say, freak?”

Hadrian left it unanswered, although it made his anxiety spark to life.

“Are you happy with yourself, you traitor? Consorting with an enemy and blood purists?!”

Hadrian looked up and suddenly he knew that if Ronald won’t shut his mouth, he was going to be cursed. If not today and in his presence, then somewhere else in the next weeks, because his best friends and Theodore looked downright murderous. The girls settled on cold anger but he could see how Mandy held her wand so hard her knuckles were white. 

“Are you too afraid to answer me, you bitch?”

What happened next was so fast that Hadrian could barely react. Four spells hurled in Weasley’s direction, all hitting the target. One silenced him and for sure was casted by someone in the table next to theirs. No not, silenced. Choked. Ronald’s face quickly showed how terrified he was when he gasped for breath. It was lifted soon enough to not cause any damage but the next spell made him silent. The third caused him to pat his body and try to shake something off. He panicked and tried to run but the fourth spell turned out to be tripping jinx, so he fell down, scrambled to his feet and fell down again. It made people laugh and Hadrian realized there were far more people around them than he had thought. Ronald finally made it to the library door but he tripped across the threshold, bumped into some seventh year who shoved him to the side and then disappeared from their sight.

Hadrian hadn’t laughed. He had a premonition it was not the end of this story and he really didn’t want to think about it.

“It was abhorrent,” stated Daphne.

“He is disgusting in every way,” added Lisa. Hadrian realized with wonder that she had her wand out and probably one of the spells was hers. “The tripping jinx was mine,” she admitted when she noticed him looking at her questioningly. “And Theodore casted something too…” Theodore didn’t look apologetic at all. “Oh my, I think Marcus Flint casted the choking hex. He’s standing in the right place.”

“Diggory casted a silencing spell I think. He’s coming our way,” warned Terry, still looking furious. They all knew Hadrian despised reacting to Weasley at all and they all held themselves back from hurting him but each insult made it harder.

“Hey, are you alright?” asked someone with a very calm and soothing voice. It was a boy, Cedric Diggory according to Terry, and Hadrian turned to look at him. He was handsome even at fourteen and seemingly avoided the awkward phase of puberty. His dark blond hair was messy but in an artsy way and his grey eyes were stormy. Diggory managed to look both concerned and angry.

“We are. Weasley can’t cast anything which even a weak _Protego_ can’t rebound.”

“I am more concerned about what he said,” admitted Diggory looking sheepish. “You should report him to your Head of House or your prefect. He can’t just talk like that to anyone.”

“Maybe we will,” responded Michael, looking like he was considering it.

“You should. I am glad you are fine. Until next time!” Diggory smiled at them warmly and went back to his table where he was writing some long essays with his friends.

“Isn’t he in the same year as your brother?” asked Anthony.

“He is. I don’t think they are friends. Diggory’s father is a bit...entitled.”

“That’s a very polite description,” murmured Lisa. “My father is always complaining about him. Their departments work closely together in the ministry.”

“I heard that he has the whole wall of his son’s photos and accomplishments in his office,” told them Mandy. “My mother once told me he showed her _pictures_ when he was buying something in our Apothecary.”

The atmosphere cleared when they started to giggle.

“What did you cast?” Anthony asked Theodore.

“It was a noteworthy spell. It will make him feel spiders crawling on his skin for the next few days.”

Anthony and Michael looked at him with newfound respect. It was a fitting punishment, especially when Ronald was afraid of even the tiniest spider but Hadrian couldn’t help worrying. Ronald humiliated himself in public and was cursed out. This had to cause backlash because he was very vindictive and for sure he thought it was all Hadrian’s fault.

“So, about glamours…”

*

Hadrian almost managed to shake off the bad feeling, when he stayed at the Goldstein’s during Yule break. His mother didn’t complain when he asked her via a letter but she wanted him home on 30th December, to which he agreed. Charles was allowed to go spend the winter break with Lee’s on the same condition and Anemone opted for going home because she would be the only first year Hufflepuff to stay in Hogwarts.

Yule Celebrations were larger than Lughnasadh’s and there was even a big gathering in the Goldsteins’ ballroom, which made Hadrian antsy and curious at the same time. He tried to protest when Lady Goldstein provided him with appropriate robes but she hadn’t wanted to hear a thing about it, and that’s how he ended up with white silk button-up shirt, black slacks and dark green robe made from thick material he didn’t know. It was comfortable though and looked effortlessly elegant on him.

He spent most of the night hiding behind Anthony and Michael, since Terry’s parents wanted to bring him to his grandparents in Paris, because people were noticing his presence and were curious about him due to his previous absence in celebrations like this. He was a new element, polite when someone asked him something but quiet and focused on observing everyone around.

Theodore was there with his father and Hadrian greeted them with a small smile. He expected Lord Nott to answer his greeting, speak a sentence or two to him, and then move on, but to his surprise Lord Nott roped him into a conversation about his passions and ambitions while expressing his satisfaction with their study group and focus on their education. It wasn’t a deep talk, they hadn’t addressed each other with familiarity, and Hadrian felt a bit unnerved.

“You know, you remind me a lot of the Blacks, is there a family connection?” Lord Nott asked and Hadrian wondered if it’s just Lord Nott’s curiosity or planned inquiring about his lineage.

“My grandmother, the Potter Regent, was born into the Black family. Dorea Black. Besides that my godfather is Sirius Black,” Hadrian explained and Theodore looked at him with big eyes. It really must have been a small scandal because Lord Nott seemed marginally surprised too.

“Indeed, I remember now… How curious.”

“Excuse me, my Lord, but what’s curious?” asked Hadrian wondering what was so unusual about this. He knew it wasn’t often children resembled one of their grandparents so strongly but he did look like his parents too when someone paid closer attention. He hoped Lord Nott wouldn’t suggest his mother being unfaithful to his father in his face and Theodore seemed to be praying about the same from the slightly apologetic look on his face as he stood half a step behind his father.

“It’s uncanny for grandchildren to look so strongly like one of their grandparents. Purely on your looks, Mr. Potter, I would assume Dorea Black was your mother. It’s not possible but it speaks about a closer relation and it’s probably a curious coincidence.”

Lord Nott was simply thinking aloud and Hadrian doubted it was a suggestion of anything, but when he was searching for Anthony and Michael with Theodore half an hour later, his mind was running wild. He suddenly remembered a paragraph from the book he had read during the summer break…There was a certain ritual in the past, a Blood Adoption Ritual. It was commonly mistaken for the Godfather Bond Ritual because of the wording. The Blood Adoption Ritual had a few verses similar to the Christian pledge of the chosen godparent. Earlier he didn’t make any connection between this information and his looks but now it nearly made him nauseous. Could it be…? He didn't know how to verify it and decided on the spot to not tell anyone until he had something for them to work on. He could ask Remus or Sirius since both of them were present and Sirius had to perform the ritual but there was still a chance they won’t remember it clearly.

He tried to calm himself with logical reasoning that he could simply be very alike his grandmother and his brain was creating another dark scenario like it tended to do. He didn’t have proof and Sirius would know better than mistaking rituals or merging them together without an expert nearby. He was an Auror and was raised in the Black House, so he should know the risks like no one else. It helped a bit or at least allowed him to distract himself easier.

“Do you want to go talk with Daphne? I see her with Anthony and Michael,” asked Theodore touching his arm delicately. Hadrian looked at him a bit disoriented but he soon realized that not only had he got lost in his mind again, but was being led through the crowd with his hand placed firmly on the crook of Theodore’s elbow. “You seemed to be deep into your thoughts so I assumed you wouldn’t want to bump into anyone here,” Theodore explained himself a bit sheepish. “I am sorry if I took liberties. I saw your friends doing it sometimes.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you.” Dear Mother Magic, Hadrian felt embarrassed. “Let’s go talk to them.” He dropped his hand from Theodore’s arm before they reached them and Theodore let him without a word.

Neither he nor Daphne stayed for the Yule Ritual so half an hour before midnight Hadrian was left alone with Michael, Anthony, and their parents. He also saw Michael’s great-grandmother, who smiled at him warmly, and aunt, this time without her husband. She introduced herself to him as Hortencia Yaxley and Hadrian became fond of her very quickly when she told him she was three years into her Arithmancy Mastery and was thinking about another one in Runes. Michael looked a lot like her with his black hair and light blue eyes even if hers were light grey, but she was his mother’s twin sister, so it was a given.

At midnight when they gathered around the Yule log in the center of the runic circle, she was standing to his left and Lord Goldstein to his right with his wife on the other side. Lady Goldstein told him earlier not to worry about the ritual and possible repeat from Lughnasadh. In a lot of ways, the ritual was similar when it came to magic building up in the air, weighing him down and smothering him a bit. He relaxed a lot quicker this time, having experienced it before and he gave in to the feeling of being safe, complete, to the rightness and warmth. He let his magic flow through him freely and it had to be the most addictive feeling in the world because Hadrian missed it before it even started to vanish. He felt stronger, more assured, lighter and he didn’t even notice when he got lost in this feeling. Somehow he knew it was needed. From nowhere surfaced the conviction, that Mother Magic knew what she was doing and it was helping. With what, he had no idea.

He was absent nearly half an hour and he couldn’t really tell if he saw white, black, or something else entirely. He hadn’t thought about it nor paid attention because he felt so much that it wasn’t important. When he came to himself, he was seated on the ground, in front of the Yule log and Anthony was helping him sit while his mother was holding his wrist in her hand with her thumb on the inside. Was she watching his pulse? He blinked a few times and fought off the disorientation. Lady Goldstein let go of his arm and asked him something but he didn’t hear it.

She had to repeat herself and only then he understood.

“I am fine. It was… more intense.” When he was narrating slowly to them what happened and what he felt, the feeling of dissociation left him completely. “I don’t know how and why but it felt like it ought to happen and I should let it,” he said at the end of his description.

“If it feels like this during the ritual, I wouldn’t worry it’s not something negative,” said Michael’s grandmother and this was the first time she said something addressing Hadrian. She reminded him of McGonagall, just a tad younger, with dark brown hair streaked with grey and sharp dark eyes. Petronella Corner held herself like an aristocratic lady from the stereotype down to the permanent sneer. Her husband was a stark contrast with white hair, long beard and thick glasses. “It’s a sign of something.”

“But nothing bad,” confirmed their great-grandmother. “It would feel wrong if it was with magic in such a pure form like this. We might observe it, but I wouldn’t intervene nor eschew.”

It didn’t stop Anthony from trying to find something again in his family’s library, although they read through most of the seemingly useful books last summer. Michael too wasn’t easily placated with _it’s something good if it doesn’t feel wrong_ as an explanation and he took to magic theory books to check if the feeling could determine something or not. It was more successful research than Anthony’s but they hadn’t found anything concrete and straightforward enough to calm them down completely. They wrote a lot to Terry through the planners and he sounded as bothered by the unknown as Anthony and Michael. Hadrian wasn’t looking shaken by the ritual, which helped and he tried to distract them from worrying by practicing wandless magic. It was going steadily forward and casting aloud helped a lot. That way Anthony’s pencil shook and even raised a bit with _wingardium leviosa,_ which wordless spells couldn’t do. It was already a lot, certainly proving to Michael and Anthony that they could cast wandless spells and it wasn’t something limited, which couldn’t be taught. The true test of that would be trying to instruct Muggleborn and see if pureblood predisposition was a fact or not. Hadrian personally thought it had more to do with how in tune with their magic pureblood children were while Muggleborns tended to never connect with their power in the same way.

In a blink of an eye, it was time to go back to the Potters’ Cottage. It put a damper on Hadrian’s good humor but it couldn’t be helped. He agreed to his mother’s conditions, so he flooed with the handle of his trunk clutched firmly in his hand and sputtered on the other side when the ash got into his mouth. He cleaned himself with a spell Lady Goldstein taught him and looked into the kitchen to see who was talking inside. He saw his mother, Anemone, and Remus, who was sickly pale and much thinner than the last time Hadrian had seen him.

“Hi, Harry, how was Christmas?” asked his mother beaming at him the minute she saw him. Anne went for a short hug and Remus gave him a slight wave with a tired smile.

“It was wonderful, and we didn’t spend all the time burrowed in books,” he said anticipating Remus’ questions before he opened his mouth. “Are Father and Charles home?”

They weren’t but should be for the dinner, which made him a bit calmer. Charles didn’t have time to install any pranks near his room or inside but he looked closely anyway for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing seemed out of place, his room was quite empty during the school year anyway, he couldn’t see any spells placed on the walls or the furniture. Hadrian wasn’t so sure about unpacking since he would be there only two days, so he took out his pajamas and toiletries and stopped there.

Someone knocked on his door and not even three seconds later Anne came in and closed it behind her.

“Hi.” She seemed to be conflicted and was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, “That jerk told father that you have a study group with Theodore Nott. I heard from the girls what he called you and Cedric also explained when I asked him. He told me he was the one to throw the first hex… I told father he called you _that_ and Mrs. Weasley tore him a new one with Percy, but… Father wasn’t happy.”

“I will be fine,” he told her after he swallowed the bile in his throat. “I know he isn’t going to be happy with me being friends with Theodore but I will think about something. I knew he wasn’t going to be happy when I asked Theodore, Daphne, and Tracey to join in.” He tried to show he wasn’t nervous and little panicky about it but Anne saw right through it because she hugged him tightly and he had no choice but hug her back.

“I heard you last Christmas when he yelled,” she admitted quietly and a bit shakily. “And it was over nothing at all. I fear what he’s going to do now. I told Charles and he said you had known what you got into so it wasn’t his problem but the twins looked worried. I think they pranked Ronald somewhere around the first days of the Christmas break.”

“It’ll be fine. It’s today and tomorrow and then we are at Hogwarts and I am going to try and stay out of the house next summer,” he said quietly. He let go of her and they both sat on his bed. “Is something else wrong?”

“It’s Remus. Have you seen him? He looks awful, is constantly tired and I doubt he eats. He was here all semester, you know? I haven’t heard anything but…”

“I am worried too but he is an adult, you know? We can be there for him but I doubt he wants our help.”

She thought about it or something else for a bit, sighed loudly, and fell back onto the bed.

“Mother was arguing with father over Sirius. I don’t know if it’s important but she said something about someone called Walburgia, pushing about an heir and him having to get his shit together.”

“Walburgia is Sirius’ mother,” he started explaining. He wondered if he should tell her all he knew but someone ought to tell Anne in the end. She didn’t deserve to be left in the dark. “Sirius was born into the mainline of the Black family. He has a brother who doesn’t have a child yet and Walburgia isn’t exactly fond of werewolves. I think she gave Sirius a warning to appear bachelor to the public or she starts making their life difficult. Especially for Remus. So they hide. If there was pushing about having an heir… I think she changed her mind and wants him to marry and have children.”

“She’s awful. I don’t like it. Remus deserves better.”

Hadrian fully agreed but he couldn’t make the choice for anyone.

“How could she make it difficult? She isn’t Lady Black, is she? What about Lord Black?” she fired more questions.

“I don’t know. There isn’t a Lady Black right now because she died and I don’t think Lord Black cares. Sirius wasn’t nice to him and he wasn’t nice towards Sirius. And I doubt Sirius would want his help even if it was about Remus and him.”

“What about grandma?”

“Anne, we haven’t talked to her for years because father has forbidden it and she didn’t reach out to us either.” Hadrian tried to tell it gently but couldn’t help being a bit blunt. There wasn’t another way to phrase it.

“I want to go back to Hogwarts and not think about it,” she said sadly. “I want everything to be alright.”

“I know, Anne, you are a true Hufflepuff,” he teased to lift the grim atmosphere and she smiled weakly.

“I am a proud Puff, so what!” she exclaimed. “Can I ask something?” It was a much more unsure question than those before. She looked conflicted and curious at the same time as if the question wasn’t appropriate. 

“Yes?”

“What do they mean when they say you were lying about seeing things and are crazy? You don’t tell lies.”

He looked at the wall in front of them. He had a hard time deciding if he should explain this one or not.

“But it is something I don’t want you to repeat to anyone…” And he began telling her about his magical sensitivity from the beginning, omitting the rituals and the celebrations. He told her about their parents’ reaction, about how Charles overheard it and told everybody and how it began as a teasing, morphed into bullying, and how Ronald still tried to taunt him with it.

When she looked at him and said _I believe you_ , he felt like he could cry. He didn’t protest when she reached out, and let her mess his hair. He wouldn’t forgive their father if he tried to separate them and something was telling him she wouldn’t either. Anemone was his little sister, he should be the one to let her lean on him and help her, not the other way around, but it felt wonderful to know someone in his blood family cared for him.

There was a loud noise from downstairs and a booming laugh.

“Dad is home.” Anne still looked conflicted. “Remember these strange meetings during the summer break? I think there was more because Tonks popped up and left some documents for father saying he would know what it was because he asked in November. She said he asked when the Order had met but she stopped herself and told me to forget about it and just give it to him. I tried to take a look but it was charmed so I just saw blurred writing. I haven’t heard anything else about any Order… I… I am a bit afraid. Anyway... Do we go downstairs?”

Hadrian didn’t know. He didn’t want to go down but they had to eat dinner with them in the end. This whole Order thing was worrying too. What had they got themselves into? Hadrian didn’t want to be pulled in with Anne, especially when it was something of more conspiratorial nature. If they weren’t in the open, they ought to be doing something which most people wouldn’t do or agree with. He had a bad feeling it had to do with Dumbledore preaching about dark forces, dark magic, and dark lords lurking in the night sinking claws into pureblood families. And if his gut feeling was right, it had even more to do with Minister Riddle and his supposedly very dark allegiance. There was nothing else to do but wait and watch, and this conclusion was the only thing he shared with Anne.

When they went down to the kitchen half an hour later, their father and Charles were already there talking about some elaborate prank to pull on the whole Great Hall. Hadrian made a mental note to remember it was due April first and avoid the Great Hall the whole day.

He felt more nervous with time, mainly because he knew the confrontation would be in private later, not when everyone would watch it. James hadn’t acted like something was wrong but he never did, so Hadrian was expecting this. Because of this, he hadn’t eaten a lot, just picked on his salad and potatoes because he was never the one for meat like a steak. Remus coerced him into a conversation about Lockhart and his take on Defence, which was quickly joined in by Charles and Anne. No House seemed to be happy with him as a teacher but he had a lot of fans too. Hadrian was careful not to mention the study groups, although he wanted to when Anne told them she had troubles learning alone from last year’s book like advised by her Hufflepuff’s prefect. He could tell her to join one later, maybe even Ravenclaw’s one with kids from her year. 

Remus was more animated and less passive during dinner. He even laughed aloud and something told Hadrian it was rather rare nowadays. He sounded a lot more cheerful in his letters but that was definitely feigned. He knew that Remus wasn’t alright for a very long time, but seeing this tired face, wrinkles which showed more and more, the gray hue to his skin… It made him sick to think there could be something seriously wrong with his uncle. Was he sick? Was it this whole situation with Walburgia and Sirius taking its toll on him? And where for Circle’s sake was Sirius? Couldn’t he spare a day or two of the holidays to come home for Remus? If he could send letters, and Hadrian knew he stayed in contact, then his mission couldn’t be undercover. That made him completely lose his appetite. His stomach hurt and he wished this whole circus could be finally over.

Hadrian couldn’t help but wait when his anxiety was eating through his mind like a monster. James waited too to single him out. They ate dinner, they started on the cake. He could see Anne was looking furtively at him with worried eyes.

It was nearing nine when they started excusing themselves from the table. Remus claimed he was tired and wanted to sleep, Charles wanted to show James something, his mother roped him and Annie with helping in the kitchen. That night nothing happened and Hadrian couldn’t sleep. He was tossing in the bed and he couldn’t look at the magic in the walls like in Hogwarts because his walls were bare of enchantments. Reading hadn’t helped, he just couldn’t focus on words or written concepts. He tidied up the notes from training his friends in wandless magic, took out his books which could be safely seen in this house and put them in a new order, subject first, then year, and then alphabetically. He fell asleep maybe for an hour around four in the morning, but he was restless and uneasy like something was about to happen.

It took James nearly a whole day to talk to him. Remus was charming their patio with Lily, so they could sit and watch fireworks without getting sick and frostbitten, Anne was somewhere in the house, probably in the kitchen making hot chocolate from powder or watching Remus and Lily work, and Charles was in the shed digging through fireworks and charming them to different colors. Hadrian could expect a moment like this to be ideal for the talk. No one was near, no one could hear them and probably no one will notice their absence or the conversation.

“What do you think you are doing befriending people like Nott and Greengrass?” asked James without any emotion in his voice, after he ushered him into his office. Hadrian chose to stand near a large, antique cabinet to his left. There were two more of those, a big wardrobe, an expansive desk with plush seating and two padded guest chairs. Everything in dark wood and gold ornaments, so they fitted the warm brown walls, nearly black floor and maroon carpet.

“Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass were nothing but polite towards me and my friends. They joined us with Tracey Davies, who is half-blood like me, and didn’t say anything wrong or treated our Muggleborn friends differently,” he said. His heart was beating furiously… and he was angry. Theodore and Daphne didn’t do anything wrong.

“You are aware of which families they came from.”

“I am but they said nothing about them, nor they did something they shouldn’t. We just work on homework and study together.”

“Ronald claimed Nott casted a dark curse on him.” James looked seemingly calm but one look at his eyes revealed a brewing storm. Hadrian could see anger slowly resurfacing and his father tensing due to his disobedience but he knew he wouldn’t ever give up his friends. They encouraged him to stand up for himself, they got his back. Maybe it was stupid but despite his fears, nervousness and anxiety, he wanted to see if James would rage but gave up or not.

“Theodore silenced him after he called me a bitch in the middle of the library. And he wasn’t the only one who cast a spell. Cedric Diggory did too. I don’t know about the rest but Ronald said a lot and somebody took offence,” Hadrian lied through his teeth but he wouldn’t ever tell his father that Marcus Flint casted choking spell on Ronald or Theodore cursed him to feel spiders crawling over him. He might be stupidly daring that night but he wasn’t that stupid.

“Why can’t you befriend normal, proper families like the Weasleys. They’re loyal, have strong morals and are supportive of the right cause. I am sure Neville or Ronald would give you a chance. You could just apologize, try to be normal and behave yourself! It is that simple!” His father started to raise his voice little by little to finally yell at him.

“I have good friends with proper families. I don’t like Neville, and Ronald and I hate each other. I despise him and we won’t be friends, even if he apologized on his knees,” he stated and his voice was shaking. His face got cold again and he didn’t want to know how badly his hands were trembling. It was terrifying to say for once what he was thinking. “I –“

Hadrian hadn’t seen nor expected the powerful slap which landed on his right cheek. The force of the hit slammed him into the cabinet and his head and arm collided with the hard wood and ornaments with a loud sound that echoed in the room. He landed on the floor.

The world seemed to stop but the pain didn’t wait for it to start spinning again. James Potter looked shocked and his eyes were trailing something on Hadrian’s face, so he raised his hand to touch his temple and the top of his cheekbone. Wet. He looked at his hand. Blood. He had hit the cabinet so hard, it cut his skin on the golden elements or the handle. Hadrian didn’t know what his head hit and he didn’t want to look. James was frozen in place and he wanted out of here. Panic swelled and his eyes watered. His arm hurt too, which heralded a big bruise. It was nothing compared to his face, which _hurt_ and the right side was burning, for sure red from the slap.

“Hadrian, son, I am so sorry…” James’ regret was obvious but Hadrian didn’t care about his regret.

“Don’t touch me,” Hadrian sounded hysterical even to himself and he flinched back when James moved to help him stand up. He tried to do it himself but he instantly got dizzy. He pushed through this and stubbornly stood up leaning on the furniture. He saw black.

James transfigured a chair beside him and sat him in it, to which he couldn’t protest, because if he did, he would throw up. His father murmured a lot of platitudes, sorry’s, forgive me’s and more words Hadrian hadn’t paid attention to. There was a wand touching his temple, a cold sensation and then the blood vanished. James’ hands trembled worse than his. He looked like what had happened couldn’t be real and was all a bad dream. Hadrian wanted it to be a bad dream too because every time James’ limits were pushed by his actions, he was apologetic for a moment, but then new limits were set, new things were normalized, and he never went back. _He never went back_. He had hit him, made him bleed and he would do it again in the future. At some point probably without any hesitation. 

Hadrian breathed heavily.

“I am going to stay in my room,” he told James with a surprisingly steady voice and got up. He didn’t look at James, hadn’t allowed him to touch him by sidestepping and… He hadn’t remembered how he got into his room. He found himself on the floor of his bathroom swaying and crying. There was still blood on his hand and on his shirt but he couldn’t stand up to wash it off. His head throbbed painfully, his stomach hurt too and he nearly missed the toilet when the dinner came up in his throat and he vomited.

He lost track of time. It could have been half an hour, it could have been two. James for sure made an excuse for him because Hadrian couldn’t see him admitting anything like that to Remus or Lily. He tended to spend New Year alone in his room, watching from the window because the sounds on the outside were too unnerving for him and he detested when something exploded nearby, so it wasn’t unusual for him to not show up downstairs.

He was still breathing heavily, his heart was pounding and he felt miserable. The vomiting took the edge off everything. His eyes stung and were probably red and irritated. Was his face going to bruise?

He forced himself to stand up, if only to rinse his mouth, and he recoiled when he saw himself. He looked horrid, completely awful. Tired, irritated eyes, his whole face was in pink splotches, the right cheek was red and the left temple… was bruising. An ugly bruise spread on his temple and high on the cheekbone.

He felt ashamed. He couldn’t show up with _that_ on his face, he could already imagine the looks of pity and the outrage. He let himself be hit, he pathetically cried on the bathroom floor… Weakness. It could be only described as a weakness. Who would do something about this? Charles didn’t care and he wasn’t sure if his mother would or if she just called it an unfortunate accident when his father punished him for his cheek. Remus had his own problems and depression. Anne was only a child, already stressed out about everything and nervous. He couldn’t add to that. And where would he go? Tomorrow to Hogwarts but then? Spending summer break with someone was one thing but becoming someone else’s ward was completely another thing.

The loneliness he felt was almost crippling.

He took out his wand from the inside pocket of his cardigan and pointed the tip at his face. It took him dozens of attempts to cast a perfect glamour and the next morning he nicked a small jar of healing balm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I welcome any constructive critique!


	3. Ab hinc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who has her Degree in Law and is Master of Law?
> 
> I sincerely apologize for two months of silence. I write mostly for relaxation, so when I don't have much time, it comes out this way. In addition, the fact that I'm not a native speaker does its job, because I always try to make sure that I post chapters with as few mistakes as possible.
> 
> If this time, something has escaped me, or the person who agreed to proof read this chapter, I'll be extremely pleased if you'll point it out in the commentary.
> 
> Comments feed my creativity!
> 
> Have fun!

Hadrian almost cried as he massaged the balm into his skin. The bruise looked awful. It was a big mess of bluish green, violent purple, and hints of red. No matter how careful he was, his skin was tender. The longer he looked, the more it seemed like a broken cheekbone than anything else, but he had no means to check if his suspicion was true and an hour to take his trunk downstairs and floo to the platform if he didn’t want to be late for the train. Adding to that, the pain kept getting worse or so it seemed to Hadrian. He didn’t know what to do.

It was a small miracle that his mother had a lot of balms and potions in their house and wouldn’t notice if something so insignificant as one of her dozens of bruise balms went missing. If she did, she probably wouldn’t do anything about it, assuming Charles took it for him and the twins. The problem was, it should have been working by now and, in Hadrian’s opinion, the bruise didn’t seem to be fading.

He was tired, and the sinking feeling in his stomach remained. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, forcing himself to slowly sip water instead. Moving his jaw was a bad idea and even blinking hurt, so Hadrian had been very careful about monitoring his own expressions. Especially because Anne observed him like a hawk throughout breakfast, which only made it worse. She kept throwing him worried looks, and Hadrian knew she suspected something was wrong. He hoped he would be left alone, but she had tried to corner him three times over the last two hours. Anemone was determined to find out what had happened, and the thought of her succeeding made Hadrian feel sick again.

He was putting the lid on the jar when someone knocked loudly on his bathroom door. The door had been locked from the inside, so it didn't open when the handle turned. His heart sped up and beat so loudly that he imagined it could be heard from outside.

“Harry, open the door!” He hated being called Harry, but he tolerated it, if it was his family. According to the stories he was told over the years, it was James who gave him the nickname Harry. 

“I am changing, Anne!” he shouted back to his sister. Hadrian’s face throbbed, and he flinched.

“You are not. At breakfast, you were already out of your pajamas!”

Hadrian looked into the mirror, resigned. There was no way Anne wouldn’t be terrified, and she was still at the door waiting to be let in. He took a deep breath in and focused on casting a glamour. It was hard not only because he was shaking. The presence of Anemone was stressing him out. The first try was a disaster, and the spell left his skin glowing in a very telling way. The second hadn’t lasted even three seconds, and when he was trying for the third time, the door opened with a loud  _ Alohomora _ . He didn’t know his sister could cast that spell!

The bile in his throat appeared almost instantly when Anne looked at him, shocked speechless. And then the tears came. She hesitated a few seconds before she threw herself at him.

“He… he did  _ this _ ?” she asked, but they both knew the answer. “Oh my god, Harry.” Her whole body shook, and all he could do was hold her and stroke her back. It was a bit funny; she was taller than he was. He sometimes cursed his genes because not only was he the shortest in his year, some of the first year students towered over him. “Did the balm help at all?”

“No,” he muttered quietly. “I applied it this morning, and it should be working, but nothing’s changing.” He didn’t want to speak about how it happened. The spells James casted only got rid of the concussion and blood. Did he not think about the possible bruising? James had panicked, but as an Auror, he should have known it wouldn’t just disappear overnight.

“You need to see a healer,” Anne said. She reluctantly peeled herself off and wiped her tears on her sleeve. “We need to tell mom or Remus, but they’re not here right now.”

“I don’t want to tell them,” Hadrian whispered, barely moving his lips. “Remus has enough problems on his plate. What’s he going to do? Argue with Da... James and move out? He would be all alone, and you know he has to be with people.” He often called his father by his name in his thoughts but now, after  _ this _ , it felt wrong to call him dad. Dads shouldn’t do things like that to their sons. “And Mom? She’s not here half of the time and when she is, she’s pretending that we’re some perfect family. She sees what she wants to see, and…” He stopped, feeling like he was choking. The pain was getting worse and the vision in his left eye was getting blurry. “I’m afraid she wouldn’t do anything more than yell at him and then write it off as an accident.”

Anemone was visibly torn about this.

“What about Charlie? Remus went somewhere, and mom was firecalled to St. Mungo because of an accident. She made Charlie promise to take us to the station.”

“And what’s he going to do? Tell me I knew the consequences?” Maybe it was cruel to use Charlie’s words against him. Their brother couldn’t have known that Hadrian would be hit. He probably just imagined another lecture with yelling, but Hadrian was hurting, feeling sick, and all that was making him feel faint. He had to sit, so he did, on the floor. He couldn’t pass out, not with only him, Anne and Charlie in the house. Flooing to the St. Mungo’s would create a scandal he wasn’t ready for. “Terry’s father is a healer,” he said slowly. He knew Mr. Boot took time off from work, so he probably was home. “I don’t think I can floo them, and he can’t floo us or apparate here.” He had to think and think fast because he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay awake with his head spinning like that.

“I cast a feather-light charm on my trunk. Can you get it here? I can shrink it. Bring my school bag too. I’ve charmed a two-way notebook. I’ll write Terry, try to floo them… We can tell Charlie when everything is set.” 

Anne moved quickly. It was almost like she had been waiting for clear instruction, and Hadrian could understand it. He too preferred having a set of tasks, but at this moment, he didn’t have that luxury. Shrinking his trunk made him feel worse, but it had to be done. His whole collection of books was in there, and he wasn’t going to leave them behind, not when he planned to be away for the foreseeable future.

He felt almost numb emotionally, when he was writing to Terry. Their planners were charmed so they warmed up when someone had written a message. It didn’t guarantee someone would read it, but luckily he could see Terry was writing to Anthony. 

_ T, I need a healer. It got out of hand. I am home with Anne, we are alone. No one can floo in or apparate inside – wards. It’s bad. Is your father home? I need an open floo connection. H. _

The uproar was instant. The pain was blinding at this point, but he could make out the words. Hadrian felt detached. He could tell that he was hurt, his hands were shaking and everything was muffled, but it was like he wasn’t quite there. Anne ran to get Charlie, the minutes were dragging out like hours. He reached for his trunk and pushed it into his pocket. It was a ridiculously difficult thing to do.

Suddenly, completely new handwriting appeared.

_ The floo is open, we are waiting. J.B. _

Jeremy Boot. Terry’s father. Hadrian put the planner in his bag. It was a ridiculously hard task but he had to do it himself. Anti-theft charms which made things impossible to touch were a menace in the time like this.

He tilted his head back. This whole ordeal was going to be a disaster, but logically he knew he needed help. Maybe he was making everything worse by panicking, and it was one more of those freaky attacks. Maybe he was being dramatic. His brain supplied a lot of reasons he shouldn’t do it. He wasn’t ready for the humiliation and the questions. He never told his friends how James was at home because he honestly thought it wasn’t so bad. But now? He didn’t want to know what was going to happen after this.

“Oh, shit. Harry!” He hadn’t noticed Charles coming in or getting to his knees beside him. It wasn’t a good sign. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” he slurred. “Terry’s father is waiting. The Boot Mansion. Take my bag. I don’t think I can stand up.” He was having trouble seeing out of his left eye. His face  _ hurt. _

Charles was more like James than Hadrian thought because his brother completely panicked. The waterfall of  _ how could he, I swear I didn’t know, I wouldn’t let him,  _ and  _ I am so sorry. _

“Just get me to the Boots, please,” Hadrian said quietly. “No St. Mungo. I don’t want this… public. The Boots.”

“Okay, okay. The Boot Mansion. I am going to move you.  _ Mobilicorpus _ or do you want to walk?”

“I’ll be sick. Try to walk,” he decided. He hated being in the air, and he had a hunch it would make him nauseous. The floo would too, and he didn’t want to vomit. It would be awful.

Anne had to help Charles with lifting him up. Immediately, he swayed and leaned heavily on his brother, who held him close to his chest.

“It’s not going to work. I have to lift you.” Three years of Quidditch must have had something to do with it, or maybe it was a feather-light charm, because Charles lifted him quite easily. “Get the bag, Anne.”

Hadrian focused on staying awake and breathing. His head was spinning. When he closed his eyes in his room but when he opened them the next second he found himself in the hallway.

“How are we going to do this? Someone has to go with you and get back here,” Charles said, and Hadrian really wanted to tell him he was stating obvious facts, but he could feel how tense his brother was. “But our fireplace only fits one person at the time. I can’t go in holding you, and Anne won’t be able to hold you upright by herself.”

“I can do it alone, it’s fine,” Hadrian said. “Let me stand. You can throw powder in and push me into the flames. Someone will be waiting on the other side.”

“We have to talk about this.” Charles carefully lowered him onto the ground. “And why you didn’t want to tell our mother… Remus, I can understand, but mum?”

“I don’t think she would do anything,” Hadrian said, holding himself up by leaning on Charles. He couldn’t quite see even from his right eye. “I don’t want to hear it was an accident. It wasn’t.”

“There’s going to be hell.” Charles had an amazing tendency to state the obvious.

“I’m scared. What’s going to happen?” They both looked at Anne. She was in tears, her face all red and cheeks wet.

“I’m going to be fine. You hold on, observe and wait.” Hadrian didn’t know if he would be fine. His mind was telling him that the consequences of this stunt will be nightmarish. He felt so detached it scared him, because he was afraid yet didn’t care at the same time. His chest felt tight, his stomach was a knot, and his hands were still shaking.

“Can I hug you?”

Charles hesitated. “Anne, we have to go…”

“We are standing and talking already. Let her.”

Delicately, Anne squeezed Hadrian’s shoulders, promising quietly to keep an eye on everything. In the next moment she was throwing the floo powder in their fireplace, he was stating the destination and Charles was pushing him lightly in like Sirius did to them when they were younger and afraid step right into the flames.

It was horrible. Not only spinning around, which made the pain flare up, but the tightness, ashes, and dust. When it finally ended, he was on his knees halfway out of the Boot’s fireplace. He couldn’t tell but it seemed like someone instantly got a hold of him. He was so disoriented, he couldn’t tell who was speaking and what was being said. Someone cleaned him from dust and ash with a spell, and then he was moved with a very gentle charm to the low bed. He had no recollection of it, so it could be transfigured.

“Do you hear me?” Hadrian had a suspicion it wasn’t the first time he was asked the question, but this time he answered.

“I do, I got too dizzy.”

Mr. Boot looked calm, but in his eyes brewed controlled fury. Contrary to James’ rage, Hadrian knew it wasn’t aimed at him. The Healer was angry for him.

“Tell me what happened.” Before Hadrian could even open his mouth, Mr. Boot was delicately touching and moving his face to take a closer look.

“He was yelling at me. Yesterday. I wasn’t expecting him to hit me. He slapped me and slammed me into a cabinet at the same time. It has ornaments from gold. I hit it hard with my head. He panicked. I blacked out. There was blood, but he vanished it. And he cast something. Numbed it a bit. My head got clearer. I thought the bruise balm would do. Did nothing. In the morning, it got worse. And then it got awful. It hurts to speak, blink. I don’t think I can see anything with my left eye. Nauseous.” Hadrian spoke haltingly, stopping once or twice to grit his teeth or flinch away from Mr. Boot's touch. He couldn't help it.

“He didn’t help you?” Hadrian hadn’t realized that Lord Goldstein was with them in the room till he asked his question.

“No.” In hindsight, James could do more harm than good with that spell of his. Hadrian had no idea what it exactly did to him beside numbing and maybe delaying the effects.

Mr. Boot was murmuring spells under his breath, and Hadrian let his eyes fall shut. He was safe, he felt safe, but he still was unsure of his next steps. He tried not to think about the coming days, but his mind was running wild.

“Do you feel faint?”asked Lord Goldstein.

“Not now, but I did.”

“Your cheekbone is broken. I can fix it with a strong  _ episkey _ and a potion, but it will hurt.” Mr. Boot frowned. “I think he cast a standard Auror spell. It’s used in the field to numb the area and put a stasis on the wound and has different variations. Some are used to numb the part of the body and stop the swelling, some can stop the bleeding or stop the organ from failure for a certain amount of time. That’s why the bruise balm didn’t work. It stopped the concussion, numbed your face a bit and then stopped the swelling. It didn’t stop the blood from flowing, but he closed the broken skin so it spilled under it. Looks awful, hurts a lot but can be dealt with in a few hours. It seems like you are going to Hogwarts later, we will take you, but you have to prepare for a headache for the next few days.”

“And the concussion?” asked Anthony’s father.

“There is a potion for that. It needs to be taken for a week to ensure there will be no lasting consequences, but Hadrian can administer it himself in the morning. The bruise balm should be able to deal with the bruise in a few days after I am done.”

Usually, Hadrian hated when adults talked about him like he wasn't there, but in this case he didn't mind. Hadrian was glad he could be at Hogwarts tonight, so there was still a chance nobody would notice his absence.

The net of spells was sparkling over him, and he remembered which color represented the numbing one, so he wondered about pushing his own power at it, making it brighter.

“Can I make the numbing spell brighter?”

“Making it brighter?”

“Spells have color. I can sometimes make it brighter. It makes spells stronger or more long-lasting.”

The statement got him looks from both men. Ravenclaws might graduate from Hogwarts, but they never lost their hunger for knowledge.

“I suppose you can. There isn’t anything that requires you to be able to feel it and tell me if it hurts more or less.”

He made blue as vibrant as he could and finally, he felt nothing. It was so wonderful, even if his skin was tight and warm. He hadn’t realized how much it hurt until it stopped. It clouded his mind and made it hard to think, and he was so impossibly tired, he wanted to sleep his life away but he couldn’t possibly fall asleep with Mr. Boot and Lord Goldstein watching him.

“If you need a place to stay for summer, you have it. Anthony will be overjoyed,” Lord Goldstein stated like he was talking about the weather outside.

“Terry too. I’m afraid he will put up a fight if you decide to spend the summer in one place without him. As if sharing the room for nearly ten months wasn’t enough for him.”

“Don’t forget about young Corner, he’s always right beside them. I rarely see one of the four alone and away from the books.”

“Do you dare fault Ravenclaws for being buried under the books? I swear, you read just as much in Hogwarts…”

Hadrian had to stop himself from smiling, not wanting to disturb Mr. Boot who was still casting spells. He never got to see Mr. Boot and Lord Goldstein acting so friendly but he suspected they did it for his comfort and to distract him. He wished for Anthony, Terry, or Michael to be there with him, not on the train ride to Hogwarts, but he settled on the thought that he would see them soon enough.

*

It was Anthony who gathered him in his arms as soon as Anthony had seen him on the Hogwart’s platform, where Hadrian was waiting with Mr. Boot beside him for the train to arrive. He was nearly one head taller than Hadrian and a bit broader but still very boyish like any twelve year old boy.

“I will leave him with you, boys. Take care of yourself, Hadrian. I wrote down everything so you won’t forget or mix it up. Don’t be afraid of asking for anything,” Mr. Boot said looking at them amused. He didn’t stay after the train arrived longer than it took for Terry and Michael to join them on the side, disaparating swiftly after saying goodbye.

“What happened?” asked Terry, looking at Hadrian with worry as if searching for an injury. “Father asked my mother to bring me to the platform and didn’t allow me to stay when I asked him to. We didn’t know what was happening at all.”

“You worried us nearly to death,” added Michael and hugged Hadrian to his side, when Anthony finally let him go. “Don’t do that again or we won’t let you out of sight anymore.”

“The only way to not let me out of your sight is going to the bathroom with me because we are always together anyway,” Hadrian couldn’t help but mutter. He felt guilty for making them worry and be afraid for his wellbeing but it also impossibly warmed his heart. It was nice to know he had people who cared so much. “Not here,” he told them, when Michael opened his mouth again. He didn’t want to talk about James in public. “I have to tell Anemone I’m here.”

“You’ll see her at the feast, let’s go before the carriages leave.” In a hurry, Anthony put his hand on small of Hadrian’s back to guide him. He looked seriously bothered by everything and snarled at some first year Griffindor who ran past them, brushing up against Michael. Hadrian was helped into the carriage and sat nearly on Anthony’s lap inside, but he let him do as he pleased. It clearly helped to calm him down.

Terry sat next to them and Michael in the front. Hadrian hoped no one would ride with them because he really didn’t have the strength to deal with anyone besides his friends at the moment. His eyes were stinging and closing by themselves, but he had to endure the feast for the next hour before he could think about bed.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just tired,” he answered, not bothering to look at Terry. If he could enjoy a moment of dozing in a safe environment before facing an entire Great Hall of loud students, he would do it. Anthony’s shoulder was quite comfortable and the left side of his face was alright, so he just let himself rest a bit. “I haven’t slept, and the potions are making me more exhausted. I don’t particularly want to eat but you do, and I have to see Anemone. She was crying when I left.” He was understating it a lot because his sister had been panicking when he left, and she seemed shaken to the core.He owed her an explanation and assurance that Mr. Boot had taken care of him. Especially when she last saw him unable to walk by himself.

“We can go to the dorms, and one of us will just bring some sandwiches from dinner,” suggested Michael.

“Or we could call a house elf to the common room and ask for something to snack on. Father said it would work. We can catch Anemone before the feast and then go.”

“I like Anthony’s idea better. I don’t fancy carrying a lot of food from the Great Hall to our dorms.” Hadrian agreed with Anthony, so he just shrugged. He was too tired to convince them that eating in the Great Hall would be more comfortable than on their beds in their rooms.

Hadrian’s head began to hurt a little bit when the carriages started their ride, but it was easy to ignore. It wasn’t anywhere as bad as in the morning. He hadn’t realized before that the ground road was so bumpy and full of shallow ruts. Hadrian could imagine it was much less noticeable when he was rested and hadn’t spent all day swallowing potions and swaying on his feet because of pain.

They rode in silence and even without opening his eyes, Hadrian could tell they were looking at him inquisitively, worried about his well-being. Anthony certainly would be a little overprotective for some time. With a bit of luck, Hadrian hoped to convince him that he was too tired for a sleepover. He still remembered how clingy and worried Anthony was when Hadrian had been caught up in Lughnasadh’s Ritual and blacked out. Considering it was a more violent and shocking situation…

Hadrian thought for a few minutes if he should downplay the situation. Part of him wanted to, but then he wouldn’t want any of them to downplay something like that to make everything easier for him. The purely selfish part of him wanted them to know what had happened, how he felt about it and to be swarmed in warm affection, feel cared for and know that someone was angry on his behalf. He was ashamed of it for a while, because their care for him made him uncomfortable for a long time and even now it didn’t stop completely. But he yearned for that, even if he still hated being the center of attention, the spectacle to watch.

He thanked Mother Magic when Michael hadn’t made a spectacle of helping him out of the carriage but instead did it without loud exclamations and teasing. They stayed on the side of the entrance to wait for Anemone who appeared soon enough. She took one look at Hadrian and flung herself into his arms.

“Are you okay now? Are you still wearing the glamour?” she asked quietly, but Terry, Michael and Anthony definitely heard it.

“Yes, but it’s a lot better. I have a balm and a potion to take for a week, but everything is under control. What happened after I left?”

“Nothing much because we were alone and had to be on time for the train. Charlie and I split, and I went to sit with the girls and he went to the twins, I think.”

“Can you tell him I’m here? We’re going to ditch the feast.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow at breakfast? I met a very nice girl from Ravenclaw, so I think I will eat with her or invite her over to my table.”

Hadrian was happy to see her smile, even if it wasn’t her usual broad and carefree smile. Anne’s eyes were still puffy and dry, but she didn’t look so afraid. Her friends must have been a good distraction, and the knowledge he was with a mediwizard helped too. She left them with a much lighter spirit, almost skipping inside.

“Do we have to tell Professor Flitwick we’re not going to be at the feast?” Michael asked and looked to see if the small professor was near.

“I don’t think so. Why would he care if we are at a feast that isn't mandatory?” Anthony said, looking very sure of himself.

“Let’s just go to the dorm rooms,” Hadrian told them. At this point, when it was getting louder and more crowded, he could handle eventual detention for skipping the feast. “I’m too tired to search for him.”

“Let’s go then,” Anthony nudged them all forward. His hand ended up again on Hadrian’s back, and he guided him to the shortcut. There weren’t many ways to shorten the way to Ravenclaw Tower, but they could make it quicker to the staircase and pray the stairs wouldn’t travel too much.

Hadrian clearly underestimated how tired he was because by the time they got into his and Terry’s room, he was dead on his feet. He gladly shrugged off his outer robe and pulled his shrunken trunk from his pocket to lay it on the ground and cancel the enchantment. It was wonderful to finally be back here, where the magic pulsed, swirled, and amazed him with its complexity of color and intensity. There were few buildings with such a strong net of spells and wards in them or around them.

“So… what had happened before you wrote to us?” asked Michael, sitting on the edge of Hadrian’s bed. Anthony sat on the other side and Terry beside him. The bed was definitely overcrowded when Hadrian sat in the middle of them.

The anxiety was stirring to life again, and he instantly got nervous. He had no idea how to start speaking about it.

“I told you that James is rather opinionated and prejudiced, but he can get really enraged. He yells, he shouts, sometimes things break. He hadn’t been physically violent, but you haven’t seen his eyes or his face. It screams anger and hate. I somewhat expected… I knew he could do something. Last Yule, he pushed me around when he was yelling at me…”

Hadrian clasped his shaking hands on his knee. He despised feeling this weak and helpless.

“Well, he… It’s hard to explain. He has been pushing his boundaries a lot. He does something he hasn’t done before, reacts, then normalizes it and he rarely reflects and goes back. So, well, I knew that at some point he would get mad about our friendship or our study group. I lied a lot about you, really, to avoid the confrontation, but the study group was the breaking point. It was a stupid argument. It always is about the stupidest of things. He singled me out when no one was close, he tends to do that. I talked back and he hit me in the face.”

Anthony was fuming silently, and Michael wasn’t any better. Terry had this grim, serious expression on his face, which was a lot more terrifying than anger, at least to Hadrian.

“He hit me with an open hand but he did it too hard and he slammed me into a cabinet by accident. According to Mr. Boot I had a concussion, a broken cheekbone and a lot of bruising. It also broke my skin, I remember blood and I remember blacking out a bit. James was shocked, he was apologizing and shaking, and he cast something which cleared my head and numbed it, then vanished the blood. Mr. Boot said it was a standard Auror spell to stabilize the wound so a wounded person could be taken to a medic. I had closed myself in my room and sometime in the morning, the spell he cast lost its power and everything hit me. He was out, mother and Remus too, so I was with Anne and Charlie, who was tasked with taking us to the platform. I panicked. I was dizzy, the spell confined the blood under my skin, so my face was badly bruised, and the bruise balm wasn’t helping because of the stasis charm. It was a mess. I couldn’t stand by myself. I have to take a potion for a week and a balm.” He was speaking quickly, hoping it would be less painful to recount.

There was a long silence. Hadrian didn’t know what else to say, and he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. It hurt to know that his father could be not only so violent but so careless and arrogant to try hiding his mistake, hoping it would resolve itself somehow without taking the blame. His eyes watered, and tears were threatening to fall.

“Can you take down the glamour?” Terry asked him quietly, and when Hadrian did, there was a sharp intake of air.

“You won’t be going back there,” declared Anthony, reaching for him and cradling him in his arms carefully. “I will convince my father to take you in.”

“We wouldn’t mind taking you in too. My family likes you very much,” added Michael with a sad smile. “I guess you are in high demand this summer. I call dibs!”

“You can’t call dibs!” Anthony protested and let go of Hadrian, who leaned on Terry, who was trembling slightly and clutched his hand. He didn’t say anything but it wasn’t needed. Hadrian knew Terry was probably the most affected by the situation out of all his friends, especially after they have seen the bruise, and it worried him but all he was able to offer at this moment was silent companionship and linked hands. “It’s my turn this summer to have you over. You can take the last two or three weeks this time!”

“I have summer, and you have winter!”

“Who decided on that?!” Anthony had his wand out in a second and charmed Michael’s hair violent pink.

Hadrian loved his friend, even if the startled laugh he let out hurt a bit. The pain-killing potion must have begun wearing off. Michael looked ghastly in pink.

*

Between his classes, additional reading, and the study group meetings, Hadrian hadn’t had a lot of time for anything. It helped him with getting into the rhythm of the school year and gave him a good excuse for not writing to his grandmother yet. He was toying with this idea for a long time and decided finally on doing it, but every time he sat and tried to write, he didn’t have a clue what and how. It was frustrating. He crossed out whole sentences and paragraphs, threw out a lot of parchment, and on one occasion, he had to talk himself off setting it on fire with  _ incendo _ .

Writing to Dorea Black was difficult on so many levels, it was getting ridiculous. How does one start a letter to a woman you haven’t seen and heard from since you were six? And how to begin explaining the situation?  _ Hello, I’m your grandson, I think you should remember me from six years ago. I write to ask for assistance with your son, who is a violent prick – I’m really not surprised you don’t speak to him anymore – I would prefer to separate myself from him, but I need help from the Head of the Family to authorize my stay with my friends, so he can’t bring me back as my father?  _ How to put it into words in a way that sounds urgent but not life-or-death? He was awful with interactions like that.

In the end, after two solid weeks of trying to come out with something proper, Hadrian asked Terry to write the letter with him. It wasn’t easier but at least someone could tell him if the wording he had chosen was good or if he should add more information or not.

They composed together a very carefully worded letter in which Hadrian admitted that reaching out to her wasn’t accidental, that James was constantly getting more violent, and that he wanted to leave the house and assure himself that James couldn’t take him back to the Potter’s Cottage as his father. There was no way to hide that Hadrian had motives for writing, and the expected small talk felt dishonest. He hadn't written to his grandmother in years. He was asking for a favor, no use pretending otherwise. Especially if he included a paragraph about his school, his friends and his interests. He hadn’t talked to his grandmother for years. She wouldn’t know how he looked like right now, he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t the case.

Michael sent the letter for him, teasing him goodheartedly about being his prince charming, and Hadrian's nerves only got worse as he waited for her reply. Would she write back? Would she write back to James instead? He didn’t want to face the rejection from her, but it would still be better than receiving no reply. It weighed down on him, even if he didn’t think about it constantly because his friends got too good at distracting him.

It made him feel guilty about bringing down the mood constantly. He knew he was being distant sometimes, withdrawn even, but it was hard not to. He got lost in his mind easier, to the point where his friends had to make sure he was aware of stairs. After talking with Charles one day, he nearly fell down the grand staircase, and it wasn't a small height.

His brother disappointed him terribly. They had never been close after they got past their toddler years and the two year age gap started to bother Charles, who wanted to run, be loud, and make trouble while Hadrian was still walking cautiously and, according to their mother, crying quite easily. Charles never did anything to stop the Weasleys from teasing him to the point of tears, never stopping Ronald from saying downright awful words or pushing him. Charles was there but he wasn’t, always running away with the twins or Jordan, getting praised, noticed, and seemingly out of reach, not paying much attention to him or Anemone.

Maybe it was naive but Hadrian thought that something would change after the new year. Charles looked ready to face James with accusations, like for once he cared because what their father did was far out of line. It felt nice to have more support from family, but falling down from that to the hellish depth of disappointment wasn’t a good experience.

Anemone was studying with Hadrian’s friends, all of them supervising her homework in some way when Charles made his way into the library and his sister saw him. She wanted to talk with him, and Hadrian went with her on a whim. Their brother stopped him one or two times in the corridor to ask how he was, but then ignored him again, and Hadrian was curious what changed. Anemone said she had seen their father’s owl before Charles distanced himself from him, and it became clear it was something James wrote. The question was answered pretty quickly when Charles told him to stop exaggerating. There was a cold rage hidden inside of Hadrian, burning in the face of injustice, when his brother stated that maybe James smacked him, but it was he who tripped while crying.  _ It was awful, but you can’t lie about abuse because you are embarrassed you tripped and gave yourself a large bruise. If someone heard, his Auror career would be torn apart!  _ Hadrian really shouldn’t be surprised but being accused of lying for such a stupid reason, not believed, and berated again made him hate James so much harder at that moment. How dare he. Anemone said that one out loud and told Charles to take out his head of his ass and think for himself instead of mindlessly worshipping. It stunned his brother silent, and she pushed Hadrian gently towards their table. She was nearly crying when they disappeared from Charles’s view, so they waited it out between bookcases. He hadn’t noticed he was trembling until she pointed it out.

It meant so much that Anne believed him. If it wasn’t the case, he could believe he was going crazy. It was infuriating to be told  _ you made that up  _ when he clearly remembered it. He felt as if James told him face to face, that nothing happened and he must have imagined it. Hopelessness was overwhelming. Did he say something like that to their mother? To Remus? Was he crazy in their eyes, or was he a lying, stupid, and selfish kid?

All of that, this whole hellish winter, caused Hadrian to be more peculiar about his belongings. He took to rearranging his personal library every time he felt on edge. It was a mindless task, but it helped him relax and calm himself down. He also began arranging everything evenly and at right angles. Stupid quill out of place could hold him back, and he couldn’t focus until he corrected it.

It seemed as if his body had a mind of its own and still expected something to happen. He tried to reason with himself, trying to explain that he was safe and nothing was happening, he only spaced out more. It terrified him on a good day and made him scorn himself on worse ones. Hadrian really wanted it to finally end.

And then the news hit the papers.

“I honestly don’t know how they managed to do this. They must be insane,” said Mandy over her transfiguration homework. “I mean, after five years in Azkaban? It’s a horrible place for a reason. No one comes out of there sane.”

“Maybe they had help from the outside?” wondered Daphne. Her long blond hair was braided in such an intricate design that Hadrian couldn’t help but admire it. “I mean, it is possible.”

“Who would want to let out someone from Azkaban and for what? Especially Crouch Junior?” asked Theodore. He seemed bored with the topic, and Hadrian had heard about it constantly since the morning post came too. “His own father was the one that had thrown him in there. His mother is long gone, his friends turned their heads when they arrested him, no one tried to assure better conditions when he was arrested and questioned… And Rowle was always an outcast, talking only to Crouch, really.”

“That may not be very plausible, but how likely is someone to escape from Azkaban?” Tracey joined in, leaving her second year Defense textbook from last year’s list. “They could bribe someone or blackmail a prison guard.”

“Why were they sentenced to Azkaban? I mean, I know they were charged with murder and that was especially vile murder but… Is it all?” Michael gave up the pretense of studying for Charms.

“I don’t know,” Daphne answered and looked around the table as if she was searching for someone who knew more. “It was violent and awful. I think a lot of it didn’t reach the papers and my parents wouldn’t talk about it around me. They always told me to stay away from Rowle during celebrations or balls.”

“My father talked about it with Sirius in our house. They discussed their cases a lot when Sirius wasn’t on the continent so often,” began Hadrian, and suddenly all attention was on him. “They were both main investigators. It was violent. They murdered a muggleborn couple and their child, but there were three more deaths of muggles in the neighborhood that no one could link to them. Sirius thought so, and called it a bloodbath. From what I remember they tortured the family for two days and that was mainly Crouch’s doing. Rowle… He was there because of their child. Everyone was disgusted, and I know for a fact that Sirius vomited on the scene.”

Mandy was green in the face, and Hadrian wasn’t aware that someone as pale as Theodore or Daphne could become even more so. Anthony seemed disturbed by the thought that he could possibly have been in the same celebration or ballroom as Rowle, and so did Michael. Tracey and Terry for sure hadn’t expected an answer like that; their shocked expressions spoke volumes.

“In the investigation, under Veritaserum, Rowle said that this child wasn’t his first victim, but no one could get him to admit anything more or give a clearer statement, and no one came forward. It’s possible that there were rumors about it,” added Hadrian after a short silence. “Sirius said that Crouch had a crazed look in his eyes, but Rowle talked about it like he enjoyed it. A lot of this didn’t hit the news, because Crouch Senior covered it, I guess. It would look awful and ruin his campaign.”

“…and they are on the run?” Daphne whispered almost like she was thinking aloud.

“Did your family send you a warning?” asked Tracey carefully. They knew that Hadrian didn’t like talking about his family or his home life. At some point everyone else talked a bit about their parents, siblings, and Hadrian was aware that it was very telling. No one pressed about it though.

“Not really. No,” he answered calmly. “My mother wrote to me two weeks ago, but she didn’t write anything important like this. She mainly described the Award Ceremony for New Inventions. Anne hasn’t got a letter today because she would tell me otherwise, and Charles could have because he can visit Hogsmeade, but he hasn’t passed any message. I think Charles would at least tell Anne about it, and she would tell me if she knows anything.”

“Why would they warn you?” Mandy seemed to be confused, but she caught up by herself. “Oh. Your family put them to prison and was leading the investigation, so they may want to… Oh.”

“They won’t get into Hogwarts,” Daphne told her confidently.

Hadrian wouldn’t be so sure about it. He knew about the map, so he had a vague knowledge of three secret passages to Hogsmeade and in or out of Hogwarts at the same time. Getting into the castle was hard but not impossible, and he couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about it. It probably was his tendency to think about the darkest scenarios, but it sparked anxiety inside of him.

He saw Anthony and Michael exchanging meaningful looks with each other and then Terry. They will be learning more defensive spells. It was clear and from the serious expression on Michaels’ face, unavoidable. Hadrian knew it was a good idea that could make him feel better about the escape, although he never would be so stupid to think it would make a big difference if it came to a confrontation. Which wasn’t a huge probability with him inside of the castle or behind wards of his friends’ houses. Speculating about the possibility of them targeting him instead of James was an over-the-top reaction.

He couldn’t help being a bit on edge the next few days, which caused him to forget for a bit about his letter to Dorea Black and about Charles. It had been nearly three weeks since he wrote to his grandmother, and there was no answer. Hadrian could see Terry feeling bad about suggesting and pushing a bit about writing to her, but he knew it came from a good place. Terry wanted him to be safe, to be cared for, and he thought it could change something. And in a way, it made a difference – now Hadrian had no doubt about being alone in the situation because he couldn’t really count on his friends or Anne like he could have counted on an adult, had an actual authority helped him. What he couldn’t stop to wonder about was a simple question: why? Did she even hold the letter in her hands? Should he try to send it again a different way? Would it make the whole thing better? He didn’t think he had the strength for it.

In comparison, Ronald and his childish name-calling was nothing. It irritated him but was easy to ignore, which worked for a long while, but then it caused Ronald to be more persistent in gaining his attention with his insults about Hadrian’s sanity, appearance, conduct, friends, and then comments about family. Anthony, Michael and sometimes Terry had no qualms about paying Weasley back with spells. Once Daphne and Theodore joined in and Longbottom had to drag Ronald to the Healing Wing, which shouldn’t give Hadrian any satisfaction but it did. Everyone moved the blame from him and the ginger idiot hadn’t walked away without a scratch. It resulted in two detentions and a point loss of nearly one hundred but they gained them back in three days between the four of them.

Sometimes his hand was itching to hurt Ronald, to make him leave him, cry or just plainly hurt him. Logically, he knew it wouldn’t work. Ronald Weasley was attached like Velcro to a dog's tail. He just wouldn’t leave him alone because of his pride, belief in his own rightness, and idealization of James and Sirius. It was both amusing and sad how much he wanted to be like them and how similar he actually was being blinded by visions of heroism, glory, and adoration.

At least it was calm in the common room, and if it got too crowded, he always could make his way to his room upstairs and be alone for a while in the silence. Hadrian found himself valuing those moments of just silence and staring into the magic in the walls more, especially with how rare they became. The time seemed to leak through his fingers, and sometimes he needed to pause it for a while. There was no way to switch off his brain, although he wished on more than one occasion to sleep away his life. The only alternative he found was watching the magic while sitting on his bed or rug beside it. He didn’t think, he didn’t care about anything, he just watched and traced patterns with his eyes. Hadrian could get lost in that quite easily, but an alarm spell cast on his wand usually helped him return to tiring reality.  _ But I need solitude--which is to say, recovery, return to myself, the breath of a free, light, playful air _ , wrote Nietzsche in Ecce Homo, and for Hadrian, it was true.

*

Lockhart’s class was a disaster. It was an awful combination of bad comedy, theater play, and advertisement mostly consisting of the third. Everyone wanted to sit as far from the front as possible because Lockhart liked to call out the first row to participate in his storytelling. Hadrian always made sure to arrive fifteen to twenty minutes early, but sometimes even that hadn't been enough. On one memorable occasion, he had to sit with Anthony in the front and was called on to pose as a frightened child. Hadrian’s deadpan expression must have been very telling when it came to his excitement because his class couldn’t hold in their snickering and laughing. 

A lot of people started to doodle, read different coursebooks, or work on their homework, but Hadrian couldn’t focus with Lockhart’s chattering in the background. Sometimes, when their professor really got into retelling his adventures straight from the fairy tales, it was near impossible to not get embarrassed on his behalf. They were so ridiculous! And there were students who believed in them! How it was possible was beside him.

“They’re either naïve or not accustomed to magical culture, so they can’t verify what he’s saying,” theorized Anthony, when they were waiting for Astronomy class to start. They had half an hour, but it was a nice night with a clear sky and warming charms to help with the cold of early spring. Michael and Terry went to pick up their books and Hadrian agreed to secure a nice place for their telescopes. Since it was a joint Ravenclaw-Slytherin class, the Astronomy Tower was very crowded. Nobody wanted to do worksheets in the back of the room by the door where their telescope could be bumped or knocked over.

“Or both,” commented Theodore. He was sitting on the last step of the staircase to the tower, while Anthony and Hadrian were situated two steps lower.

From what Hadrian knew, Theodore seemed to be a loner among Slytherin boys. He hung out either with Daphne and Tracey or with no one at all, but it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he presented himself as comfortable with having two friends in his House and a bunch of Ravenclaws as companions. He had been a hat-stall with Ravenclaw, and he really loved studying what interested him, which isolated him a bit in Slytherin. Quiet, with a nose in the books and fascination with darker acts, he would fit in Ravenclaw, although Theodore admitted to enjoying political power play and having a lot of ambition mixed with determination to fulfill expectations set for him by his family.

“Actually I think that being from a non-magical family is a bigger factor,” added Theodore after a minute.

The book was slammed shut loudly, and they all immediately looked on the stairs below them.

“Because what, muggleborns are stupid?” spat out Granger. She looked fired up already and ready to argue. Nothing changed since the start of the school year. The majority of students still mostly ignored her apart from Padma, who from time to time talked to her shortly and sat with her in Potions.

“No. Just because muggleborns are raised as muggles,” answered Theodore shortly. He didn’t tolerate Hermione Granger at all. She irked him far more than she irritated Hadrian, but Theodore was a blood purist and there wasn’t another way to describe it. He despised muggles blending in or fraternizing with wizards, he disliked ignorance about magical culture and preferred to stay in traditionalist company. Hadrian was aware that Theodore wouldn’t look twice at any muggleborn, and although he didn’t share this particular dislike and aversion, he knew there wasn’t a point in trying to change Nott’s mind about it. As long as Theodore stayed civil and moderately polite to everyone, which was strongly written in pureblood etiquette, Hadrian wouldn’t comment on it. “I suppose, it’s easier for muggleborns to believe in what they hear about magic. They haven’t had contact with magic before Hogwarts, don’t know much about it, and are limited in their studies to the Hogwarts library, which is not that big. They aren’t aware that vampires aren’t mindless ghouls… or Lockhart, which is common knowledge, so they don’t question his stories and see inaccuracy.”

“You can’t talk about him like that! He’s a professor!” Granger protested. “He was hired by the Headmaster so he for sure knows about Defense. He wouldn’t be hired otherwise.” She hadn’t sounded so sure about it herself when she was telling them that. More like she was saying that to convince herself that Lockhart had to be competent in some way.

For a while, it didn’t look like she was going to say anything else.

Once he had seen a documentary film, where Albert Einstein said  _ blind belief in authority is the greatest enemy of truth,  _ and Hadrian thought it fit Hermione perfectly. She had a lot of trust in the professors, the Headmasters, or books to the point that she rarely considered different options than those, which were suggested by them. It was a shame that brilliant people like her could fall into a trap like this and not be aware of it.

Granger didn’t seem like she was about to say anything, so Theodore looked away from her.

“Like I was saying, I am not surprised that there are people like that. I hope for someone much more competent next year,” Theodore said to Anthony.

“My father said they inquired about next year's Defense teacher, but the post is still open and they can’t choose on their own until July.”

“I just want a professor who won’t use so much theatrics,” Hadrian told them. “I can still study by myself, but a quieter and more organized class would be nice.don't like being called to the front to act scared of Morag’s terrible vampire impression.”

“Right, you’re more like a frightened damsel, princess” joked Anthony, and even Theodore laughed. Nott was around so long, he had heard the prince and his charming prince joke multiple times, although the fair prince changed during the last months into the princess.

“I can look like a princess, but I am in no way helpless,” Hadrian shot bac, which set Theodore off one more time. It wasn’t insulting for him to be called a princess, and he could admit he was far from the most masculine person in the Hogwarts, but being called helpless or frightened maiden? That irked him sometimes, especially with the memory of how helpless he felt against his family.

“No, you are far from helpless,” said Theodore after he stopped giggling. He was looking at Hadrian in such a way, it made him a bit uncomfortable because he wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Michael sometimes teased Hadrian with how besotted Theodore seemed in his company. He didn’t want to think about it. He was twelve and hardly interested in any romance, even if magical children tended to mature mentally a lot quicker than their muggle counterparts. He had read somewhere a theory that it was because magic wanted to protect them as they were more vulnerable in the muggle world, and it stayed like this since the Middle Ages. Hadrian found it interesting but wasn’t completely convinced. Anthony told them that in some books he had read, authors theorized that it was because wizards were a different race of humans, which explained differences in biology or much longer lifespan, but in Hadrian’s opinion completely failed to explain muggleborns. Different steps in evolution seemed more possible, but wizards rarely referred to Darwin or evolutionists in general.

“Anyway, I would prefer Weiss to be back for the next year,” muttered Hadrian, bringing back the topic of their Defense teachers. “I know there is a weird curse on the Defense post, but how hard could it be to call in Curse Breakers? It’s not like Hogwarts doesn’t have funds from tuition and donations.”

The answer was simple – if you were Dumbledore, it was very hard for you to admit you were wrong and call the specialists. Mainly because of many myths that arose around Dumbledore and his competences in each field of magical research, a lot of people seemed to believe it was impossible to break a curse or spell keyed to the wards, whatever it was. In Hadrian’s opinion, when you were around one hundred ninety, it wasn’t stupid to let someone to look at the matter after you, because everyone could miss out or forget about something. They were all humans, and not a single person was omnipotent and infallible, but it certainly didn’t apply to how Dumbledore posed himself in his domains, where he had to have every single last word or at least make it very hard for the Board to influence the curriculum or the choosing of the teachers.

He smiled at Morag, who appeared on the staircase with Mandy and Lily right after that.

“Professor Dumbledore said the curse on the Defense post was unbreakable,” Hermione inserted herself in the conversation again with this irritating tone which suggested that she was right and there was no other explanation.

“Curses like that are rarely unbreakable. It just takes a very good Curse Breaker and a competent Ward Master,” said Morag, giving Granger a disapproving look. It seemed like during the day she said something that irked Morag again. It happened from time to time but truth be told, at this point, Hermione's existence alone rubbed Morag the wrong way. “Why don’t we move to the top of the tower? She certainly wouldn’t want to spend any time in the company of… how did you put it, Granger? Ah, I remember. Chauvinist men who look at women like broodmares from a good line. And what did you call Padma? Was it an ambitionless girl who fell for empty promises and large vaults and signed herself with a contract to some older pervert? Well, if you can call a twenty two year old man an old pervert when they have the paragraph stating they will be marrying each other after a confirmation agreement when she’s turned twenty.”

Oh, it was bad. Granger was really set against marriage and betrothal contracts at all, and they were a big part of the community. Even his parents had one to protect family secrets and vaults or possessions if a divorce happened. Of course, there were contracts with strict provisions, really traditional and old fashioned, but it all depended on the intention of the families. Hadrian could see a strong resemblance to Roman marriage contracts and a lot of books confirmed his thoughts. So it was possible to more or less give up one member of the family to another and limit the possibility of divorce to few causes, which seemed wrong in Hadrian’s mind at first, but then he read about the examples, and he had to admit that sometimes those contracts were useful. And no one forced the entrusting family to sign the contract. There was a whole process of checking and confirming the wording, the principles, and the form of the agreement. And the possibility of fraud? Well, there was always one, in everything. The whole institution shouldn’t be crossed out and damned because of some cases, where people want to cheat, use someone, or are simply meant for the Azkaban. If it was a case, then every wizard should give up their wand because there was a possibility of misuse.

And Padma had tried to explain a bit of this when Granger joined in the conversation in the common room because it was quite insulting. Hadrian knew that she even recommended books to her in case she wanted references, but Granger turned that down saying she wouldn’t read anything written by magical supremacists and started in on internalized patriarchy and how Padma could have never realized it was the case. Hadrian remembered thinking then how she would handle the news that the woman was the more privileged party in most of the contracts. Denying that sexism and patriarchal families existed was pointless, but so was seeing it everywhere like Granger did, not only with that but with racism towards muggleborns and pureblood supremacists. And Patils were a matriarchal family, for Circe’s sake, so her betrothed would be taking Padma’s name.

Theodore looked at Granger like she was a disgusting bug.

“So typical of people coming into our world and trying to enforce their own beliefs. That’s why we have blood traitors and the idea of muddying our world was born,” he commented, and Hadrian thought it was actually surprising, he hadn’t called her mudblood to her face and worked out around it instead.

Theodore rose to his feet and reached his hand in an offer. Hadrian didn’t think much about it, letting himself be pulled up, but his stomach did a funny flip when Nott hadn’t let his hand go immediately after it but held into it a bit longer. From Anthony’s grin, he also noticed and was going to tease him about it later.

“Well, it’s because…”

“Because you have your own ideas and views on how our world should work based on your imagination of how it would be when you entered it,” interrupted Anthony, and from this point he ignored her, following Theodore and Hadrian to the top. Granger couldn’t know it but these words were the exact comment Lord Goldstein shared with them one evening when he was speaking about a bill proposed during a Wizengamot meeting.

Granger looked infuriated, but no one really paid attention to her anymore, and when Padma came up, she didn’t even look her way, situating herself on the other side of the group. When the rest of Slytherins arrived, they had to notice the tension in the air. Hadrian exchanged looks with Daphne and Tracey and beckoned slightly in the general direction of Granger, which prompted them to situate themselves to hear new gossip. Anthony was on it in a minute, and he wasn’t subtle in that.

“We aren’t with you for half an hour and something interesting happens,” said Michael right after he showed up with Terry. “What happened when we were in our dorms?”

Hadrian quickly narrated what Morag told them.

“I wonder if Padma will ever talk to her again…” murmured Terry. “They’re roommates but still.”

“She already sleeps over a lot in Morag and Lily’s room, she could push Flitwick to let her move in there or at least to discipline Granger.” Michael looked really sorry for Padma. “I wonder if he would do something or tell her politely to suck it up.”

To their surprise, Padma actually took Clearwater with her and went to fill in an official complaint. Granger was called to Flitwick’s office the next day for nearly an hour and got herself three weeks' long detention. Despite the punishment, Hadrian doubted it would do anything more than assure Granger of injustice. She hadn’t understood nor wanted to understand what people were mad about. She possibly hadn’t seen fault in herself at all.

*

“I have a bad feeling about this,” stated Hadrian, looking at the wall of trees in front of them. The Forbidden Forest looked as dark and menacing as always, and he didn’t particularly wish to go in there knowing what probably lived in it.

Lockhart asked them to meet him near Hagrid’s hut in time for their class and then announced that this one would be  _ practical  _ in  _ the Forbidden Forest _ . He proceeded to explain their task which was quite simple – a twenty minute walk to the clearing and then back to the Hut, except they had to bring back with them a twitchy mushroom which grew there in a jar. No one looked excited, and a lot of students voiced their concern.

“Fear naught, dear students! It’s perfectly safe! I, Gilderoy Lockhart, checked the way myself! It’s a nice little path. You won’t get lost but have a wonderful experience of dealing with your own fear. Facing your fears is very important when you are dealing with evil forces, just like I told you about the Bogart! I looked at it without fear and poof! The bogart was defeated! It couldn’t stand the sight of my winning smile!”

Even Granger didn’t look convinced, and that was something.

“But let’s stop talking and start working! To the forest! We’ll see each other in an hour. The first student back will be getting O!”

They probably have protested and stayed out of the forest, but the Hufflepuffs walked in, and they just followed them.

“Maybe we should go together as a group?” proposed Susan Bones. Perhaps the eerie cold of the Forbidden Forest in addition to the dimness could make nearly everyone more agreeable because no one protested except Zacharias Smith.

“But what if I want that O?” he asked in his pompous tone.

“Then you are free to walk there and back all by yourself hoping you won’t need backup,” answered Morag. “Who knows what is in there. I don’t trust Lockhart to do anything to ward Acromantulas away.”

That shut him up, but he hadn’t seemed to drop the idea of getting an O. Hadrian didn’t care about additional grades with his straight Os in Defense anyway, which he got mostly by rewriting Lockhart’s books into the essays. It was boring and frustrating, but he couldn’t let his grades drop if he wanted to choose an additional subject to two chosen electives next year.

The Forbidden Forest was eerily silent, very humid, and dim, which was curious on its own because outside the Forest was sunny and quite nice. Hadrian made sure to watch his step because the path wasn’t that even and the occasional root made it easy to trip. And then he saw slugs. What an abhorrent sight.

No one talked loudly, which created a tense atmosphere. Some of the Hufflepuffs turned quite pale. Lily and Lisa didn’t seem to be fine either. Quite a lot of the students were looking around for anything that could creep out towards them. Nearly everyone he saw had their wands out. Knowledge of what lived here definitely fueled their imagination. But who could guarantee it was completely safe? No one. Especially when there was no professor with them and even if Lockhart came looking for them, it wouldn’t be that helpful if everything about him was a lie. Hadrian would prefer Hagrid.

“If something happens to us, I will end him, even if it’s a scratch,” Anthony told them, when they jumped from stone to stone while crossing a small stream. “It’s ridiculous. It got named forbidden for a good reason, and we are second-year students. I don’t care if it's the middle of the day, and we aren’t going that far. And how long are we going to walk?”

“According to  _ tempus,  _ we should be near the clearing,” said Michael. “Or he misjudged the distance.”

“If he misjudged the distance, I will misjudge my description of this class to my father.”

“I think you should misjudge it a bit anyway,” Terry advised with a very blank expression on his face, which indicated he was getting mad himself. The farther they went, the more dangerous it could potentially get. “I have a bad feeling.”

“I am going to look around, so steer me out of holes or stones if I get distracted,” Hadrian said to Terry. “If something is here, I will probably see something out of the normal magical pattern.” Almost immediately, Terry held onto his wrist and Michael got to his other side ready to stop him from falling.

And Hadrian looked for the first time at the magic in the Forbidden Forest. It was stunning like the walls in Hogwarts or wards above Corner’s Mansion but way wilder, always coiling and swirling. It was in the trees, going from the ground to the upper branches, in the ground and plants. He carefully looked up, and magnificent coils made from different shades of green, blue, white, beige, and brown stole his attention for a while. Beautiful.

“So is everything normal?”

“I wouldn’t know, but there is nothing disturbing the magic,” he answered Terry’s question with a slight delay to look around for anything eye-catching. “Remember when I told you that magic reacts if there is any magical creature touching it when I saw Mandy’s kneazle? Like an imprint? There is nothing like that here, but it’s beautiful. Truly amazing. Every tree channels magic from the ground to the top branches, so I think that’s the answer to why it’s so dim and damp.”

“Amazing,” whispered Michael, observing his surroundings curiously.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but Bones who was walking at the front of their group said that she saw the clearing. Soon they emerged from the forest to the sunny patch of grass and flowers. The temperature raised, which was welcomed by everyone gladly.

It was Michael who found them the mushrooms and they looked as disgusting as Hadrian remembered – covered with some slime, twitching and pulsing a bit. Almost as abhorrent as the slugs.

“I’m not keen on touching that,” Hannah Abbot said loudly beside him.

“I am definitely not touching that,” Hadrian answered her and cut off his mushroom with a discrete wandless magic masked by wand movement. He had a lot more control over it that way. Only then he levitated and put it in the jar. They had to bring their own, but Lockhart hadn’t specified the size so Hadrian’s jar could fit at least ten of those.

“Are you really that afraid of getting your hands dirty, Potter? That easily grossed out and dainty?”

“Yes,” he answered Smith’s questions straight away.

“Hadrian, could you help me with my mushroom as well? I am afraid I am too dainty and easily grossed out to touch it too,” Hannah asked , and Anthony snickered from the other side.

“Hadrian, dear, you could leave it to your prince charming! I would do it for you, princess!” teased Michael, and Hadrian hurled the mushroom he just cut off for Hannah at him. Michael barely avoided getting hit in the face, which made everyone laugh. “I only wanted to help!”

“Well, help yourself to the mushrooms. We have to get back,” said Hadrian.

Getting their proof of reaching the clearing went smoothly, but no one really wanted to get back on the path. Especially when it was so nice there in the sun.

“If everyone has their own mushroom, then let’s go back. Again in the group, right?” yelled Morag to get everyone’s attention. She had a leaf in her wavy brown hair, which was quickly pointed out and taken off by Lisa.

“Sure,” Susan agreed and Wayne Hopkins nodded in agreement. “It worked well.”

“Because nothing is here!” protested Smith. “We walked nearly half an hour, and we’ve seen nothing dangerous or rather nothing at all. I’m going ahead, and you can go all together like frightened sheep.”

“Are you sure about it?” Justin Finch-Fletchley asked him, but it was more like talking to a wall because Smith had already turned around and marched into the forest.

“He will be okay, right?” Ernie Mcmillan looked scared on Smith’s behalf, but he hadn’t done anything to stop him from entering the path again. Instead of that, he just looked at the point where Smith’s blond head had disappeared from their sight.

“I think so, Ernie,” Megan Jones told him, but she didn’t sound so sure about it. “Let’s go. That way he wouldn’t be that far ahead, and we will hear if something happens, and he will get his O.”

Megan Jones was the last victim of Granger’s aggressive friendship attempts. Either she didn’t mind her or was too shy and cornered to say anything, but Granger seemed to accompany her during classes, meals, and sometimes in the library, while Jones nodded in the right moments of her monologues. Like right now because reciting every single fact about the Forbidden Forest that she could remember apparently calmed Granger down.

The walk back was uneventful but still tense. Going from the sunny clearing to the damp chilly forest was a bit unnerving on its own without adding into account everything that lived there courtesy of Granger reminding them of the most dangerous beings. Time also seemed to pass quicker, and Hadrian breathed a sigh of relief when they got out of the forest and walked to Hagrid’s hut.

The chatter started to pick up, and soon everyone was talking freely.

“I don’t see Zacharias,” stated Ernie. And indeed, there was no Smith nearby. “Maybe he’s in the hut?”

It was Susan who knocked on the door, and soon Lockhart stepped out with a big toothy smile and Hagrid right behind him. The half-giant seemed to be relieved to have him out of his house.

“What an adventure, huh? So! Dear students, who was the first one to step out of the forest?”

“Eee, Zacharias Smith?” answered Justin looking utterly confused. “But he’s not here.”

“How could he be anywhere else, if he was the first one?” asked Lockhart in a condescending tone.

“Well, he told us he was going ahead and went faster… And now he’s not here,” Susan told him.

“We haven’t seen him on the path because we would reach him if he went slower. Did he even step out of the forest?” asked Granger.

Lockhart paled. He paled even more when he had to explain himself to McGonagall, Flitwick, Dumbledore, and Sprout. He was white like a sheet of paper when he had to participate in the search for Zachary Smith with Hagrid after Sprout berated him and announced that she would be contacting Smith’s family, which was very wealthy and old despite not being an Ancient House.

They all were asked about the class and their task, and all their stories were exactly the same. They were asked to meet here by Lockhart and then tasked with the walk into the forest and back as an exercise to deal with fear. No one was overjoyed with Lockhart’s creativity, and he didn’t ask for permission to take the class outside or about taking them to the forest. And now someone was missing, and no one had heard anything.

“It’s not like we would miss him,” muttered Susan under her breath, which honestly surprised Hadrian. He hadn’t known heiress Bones too well because they never seemed to have a lot in common, and she preferred the company of Abbot, but she had a certain image of a good girl from a good family with a bleeding heart and righteousness in her blood. She looked a lot like her aunt with ginger hair in a tight bun and not a thing missing from her standard uniform worn by her properly. He really shouldn’t have these pictures of people and expectations of their behavior. When he thought about it, it wasn’t very clever to have them at all. Especially if he hadn’t known them well. It was a very biased point of view and he didn’t want to be prejudiced towards anyone.

They were shepherded into the castle because there was no point in them staying by the forest. They couldn’t help in the search and would probably only interrupt. And it was time for lunch.

“I’m curious if they’ll call the Aurors,” Michael wondered, and Hadrian shrugged.

“I don’t know. It depends if they find him in the next hours or not, or how his family is going to react, right? The Regent Smith is rumored to be really vicious,” he said, and he heard a loud huff behind him.

“Of course they would send Aurors if the pureblood child gets lost,” commented Granger, but she was ignored. From time to time she liked to bring out the incident with the troll and how a young Auror deemed it an accident, and how it would be treated differently if she wasn’t a muggle born witch. Someone even told her that her family could press charges if they wanted too, like could every other family if it was their child, and that there were lawyers specialized in representing non-magical families, but it was like speaking to the wall.

“Anthony, Hadrian!” someone yelled, and they both turned their heads.

Daphne was waving to them slightly from the Slytherin table and beckoning them to join her. Hadrian shouldn’t feel satisfaction about going against his father’s wishes so publicly, but he did. They broke from the group of Ravenclaws with Terry and Michael and squeezed themselves on the bench with the second year Slytherins.

He had never been in such close proximity with Malfoy, Parkinson, and the rest of them, and it was clear that they didn’t know how to treat them. Daphne quickly took care of that, introducing them to each other in a very official and polite way. Only then, when no one stepped out of line and all of them seemed to be at least neutral with their new company, Daphne asked.

“So I heard that Lockhart tasked you with a walk in the Forbidden Forest. Is it true?”

And everyone in the vicinity instantly looked more animated.

“It is. He asked the whole class to meet him outside of Hagrid’s hut and to bring a jar with us, then he said we have to walk twenty minutes back and forth to the clearing, bring with us one twitching mushroom as proof we were there. And all of it without the supervision of a professor or Hagrid,” Michael told her.

“Heiress Bones suggested going as a group, and we agreed. Only Smith protested, but finally he agreed. Nothing really happened, we arrived at the clearing, and then Smith said he wanted the O that Lockhart promised to the first person to walk out of the forest. He went ahead although a lot of Hufflepuffs wanted to stop him… “ Anthony paused dramatically and everyone, even Malfoy and Parkinson, leaned towards him, “…and we came out of the forest, and he wasn’t there. We heard nothing and we weren’t that far behind because we agreed to let him take the O but not to put a large distance between us. They are searching for him now.”

Malfoy was looking at him, Hadrian noticed it straight away when Malfoy hadn’t looked away to set his eyes on anyone else for longer than it was polite. He was staring at his face, tracing with his eyes Hadrian’s hair, face, posture, hands… Almost if he was shocked by Hadrian’s appearance, and was minding his facial expressions yet couldn’t help himself but wonder. It took a minute for Hadrian to remember that Malfoy’s mother was from the Black family, so he probably was hit with a stronger resemblance to them than to the Potters.

“Serves him right, he’s an embarrassment with his constant boasting about Helga Hufflepuff being his ancestor,” said Daphne. “Do you think the Aurors will be called?”

“I don’t know. I suppose they can send some new recruits like the last time, if the Headmaster notifies them, but I would count on Smith’s family insisting there is an Auror investigation instead, because the last time it was Weiss who called the Aurors in,” Hadrian answered her. “The Headmaster won’t call them of his own free will. Personally, I hope Smith’s family will demand an investigation because I don’t wish for next year with Lockhart.”

“I wouldn’t think that Potter would be so skeptical of the Headmaster,” commented Malfoy. His tone wasn’t very friendly, but one could tell he was just curious and a little bit surprised.

“I am skeptical of many things, and I like to broaden my horizons,” Hadrian replied very evasively. It wasn’t Malfoy’s business to ask for about family relations.

“About broadening the horizons… My father left me to finish my shopping with Hadrian the previous summer, and we had found the most interesting books about Runes. I borrowed them, and they offer a lot of overlooked theories,” said Theodore lightly, reaching for a fruit bowl. Malfoy’s eyes widened at the implication of Nott’s words.

“I sometimes think my mother and her sister like Hadrian more than me. Especially when he let mother use hair cosmetics on him during his stay in the summer,” Michael added to that.

“There is something about it because my mother to this day gushes about how polite he was in comparison to me when she was dressing him for the Yule Celebrations.” Anthony just had to say something too.

Now Malfoy knew that he participated in the Yule Celebrations with the Goldstein’s, in Lughnasadh Celebrations with the Corners, and he had met Lord Nott at least once and was deemed acceptable company for Theodore. It probably placed him in a completely different league than the rest of the Potters. Even Parkinson looked at him differently and actually roped him into a conversation later in which she was perfectly nice and friendly.

They had time until their next class, joint Slytherin-Ravenclaw Potions, so they spoke and ate slowly and were still in the Great Hall when the door had opened and the Aurors walked in.

“They sent the new recruits fresh from the Auror Academy,” said Hadrian, when he saw a familiar face. “The man is Matthew Wright. Sirius complained he’s really lazy and overlooks evidence. He was in the papers once giving the press pieces of information about a series of robberies. The woman next to him is Nymphadora Tonks. She’s our cousin. More yours than mine,” he added the last fact looking at Malfoy.

“What?”

Hadrian casted the silencing spell over them and Terry because Terry was seated between him and Malfoy. It was utterly impolite to talk about disinherited and disowned members of the family loudly.

“It would be inappropriate to speak about it with such a large audience, and Terry already knows because of our friendship.” Malfoy nodded in agreement, and only then Hadrian spoke again. “She’s the daughter of Andromeda Black, your mother’s sister. Her father was Cygnus Black, who was the nephew of Dorea Black, sister to Pollux Black, and my grandmother. Sirius is my godfather, also son to Walburga and Orion Black, which makes him a cousin of Andromeda.”

“I have never seen her.”

“I thought you hadn’t. Andromeda isolated herself quite well. They live mostly in the muggle world,” Hadrian added, and Malfoy made a disgusted face.

“Thank you for the courtesy and for casting the spell. We should call each other by given name, we are distant family in the end.”

“Call me Hadrian then, Draco.”

He canceled the spell, and no one said anything about it. Hadrian was finishing his apple pie when the news was announced after the short talk between the Headmaster and the Aurors. Zachary Smith was found by the centaurs and walked back to Hagrid’s hut, but Lockhart had gone missing.

Anthony snickered behind his hand.

“And I hope he won’t be found,” Michael commented flatly.

“At least he will have an occasion to recreate the events of his fifth book when he convinced Acromantulas into leaving their nest by flashing them a smile and casting a strong _ lumos _ ,” Hadrian added uncaringly.

Sometimes, for a short while, Hadrian wondered if Lockhart started to believe his own lies and deceptions. It would be sad and tragic, also very telling, if he did. Nothing summed it up better than the words of Dostoyevsky from  _ The Brothers Karamazov.  _ He summed it up nicely in one paragraph _. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others.  _ Lockhart didn’t exactly invent offenses to gain attention like the paragraph went further but he certainly exaggerated for the sake of effect, of attention, and he picked up a word, a small story, and made a mountain out of pea. A mountain out of pea. A big battle out of meeting boggart.  _ Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and himself.  _ Hadrian wouldn’t call Lockhart’s lying bestiality but narcissism and attention-seeking in the purest form, which were fed by the pleasure of being in the center of an adoring crowd.

He startled himself when Terry touched his arm to gain his attention and tell him it was time for potions. Great, he drifted out of reality again in the company of others. The worst thing was, he couldn’t shake off the feeling he wasn’t quite there with them for a bit, and he couldn’t find his voice, so he just forced himself to nod and got to his feet. They were on the stairs to the dungeons when he was sure he was back fully. It was such a weird, detached feeling but it wasn’t completely unpleasant. Maybe he was just tired from the walk in the forest.

*

Lockhart wasn’t found so they had to assign someone to fill out the position of Defense professor. They had sent Wright and he was marginally better than Lockhart with his lack of instructions. He liked to just throw a spell at them, telling them to practice and sitting behind his desk to read something he brought with himself. At least they were practicing spells that existed and were somewhat useful. A lot of them were already familiar to Hadrian but working at the speed of casting them was important too, so he often ended up betting with Anthony, Michael and Terry about who would be the fastest caster between them.

And then, at the end of May, the letter from Remus came. It wouldn’t be anything special because Remus sent him one letter per month regularly since his first year but the content was quite unusual and surprising.

_ Harry, _

_ How are preparations for the exams? I hope that Junior Auror Wright is a more efficient teacher than Lockhart. How are your plans this summer? Your mother told me you have sent a short letter saying you are going to spend it with your friends and won’t be coming home at all. She seemed a bit sad but she’s glad you found good friends in Hogwarts. You seemed so happy last summer that she was glad that you won’t be alone in the Cottage most of the time since she took this post as Potion Master in St. Mungo. _

_ It may seem unexpected but I am going to move out of the Potter’s Cottage. I can’t abuse the hospitality of your parents and I found a nice flat near Diagon Alley. Of course, you can visit but I would like an announcement before since I will be living alone. I decided on moving because, after a long debate with myself, I am distancing myself from your godfather. I hope you won’t think wrong of me, but I couldn’t live as I have lived any longer. I still love you very much and I know Sirius loves you too. Don’t worry about us, we are adults and we have to resolve the situation between the two of us. _

_ On a happier note, I accepted the post of Defense professor next year. It’s not a secret but you know what is, so I ask you again for discretion. My textbook will come out before the start of the next school year, and it will probably be the coursebook. You already read a good portion of it before the publication but I will think of something for lesions to not be boring. _

_ Yours, _

_ Remus Lupin _

__

It did stun him a bit but he passed the letter to curious Michael, seeing no harm in letting his friends know about next year’s professor. They were sitting in the library, so Anthony leaned on to read over Michael’s shoulder.

“I know I shouldn’t be so curious but I wonder about the secret,” Anthony told him .

“I know, but I can’t tell you. It’s not mine to share with anyone.”

Anthony wasn’t offended by it nor was Michael or Terry, who read the letter last.

Hadrian wondered what was the last straw for Remus. Walburgia and her pushing for the heir or Sirius’ fake-dates and long-distance relationship due to working on the continent.

“I guess all of it was pilling and pilling, and it reached its tipping point. He looked awful when I last saw him. He sounds like his fine in the letters but then I remember how lifeless he seemed. I love Sirius but I don’t think he was fair to Remus or that Remus deserved that kind of treatment. For all Sirius poses himself as a rebel, he listens to his mother quite well. And I know that she can do a lot of damage but why wouldn’t they move outside of England? Sirius works a lot on the continent, he speaks French and a bit of German. Or they could move to the States. It’s not the end of the world. They could visit or speak with us through the floo, instead of those fake-dates and hiding,” said Hadrian, when Anthony asked him about his thoughts about breaking up. It was easy to judge from the outside though. “There could be a lot of things I don’t know about though.”

And there probably were facts not privy to him. What he couldn’t understand was how Sirius could preach about his disobedience towards the Black but still doing exactly what his mother wanted him to do. Even if Walburgia Black threatened to out Remus and tell the world about him being a werewolf, they could move. News like that could do a lot of damage in Britain but in the USA? They hadn’t had such restrictive laws towards werewolves and Remus always said there weren’t so many prejudices there. And in France? The exact same thing. As an International Licensed Auror Sirius could move there without much of the problem. Remus could write from anywhere in the world. Why would they stick to Britain and endure threats from Sirius’s mother? Or maybe it wasn’t only her? But who would have cared enough? It didn’t make much sense, because analyzing the facts he had, Sirius simply hadn’t cared about Remus in the same way Remus cared about him, and allowed Remus to be pushed away from view.

And Remus depression. Hadrian didn’t want him to feel even more alone. In the Cottage he had company for two months in the summer and then on the weekends and late in the evening. He ate, he slept, he talked to someone. And now when he wanted to live alone? It was concerning. Really, really concerning. He could imagine Remus’s health spiraling down with no one to witness it. His uncle was good at pretending things weren’t as bad as they could be. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to inform aunt Andromeda about Remus living alone. They have been working closely for some time when Remus was writing his first book and became good friends. She was a bit older and very maternal but still cunning, tactful and not overbearing. Or was it overstepping? Remus accepted the Defense post, so he would be in Hogwarts from September. Surely he wouldn’t do anything stupid like forget to eat when he decided to teach. It was his dream for a long time.

Hadrian hated such dilemmas. He was awful with people, and he didn’t want to drag his friends in, because it was Remus’s life, not his. He decided not to owl Andromeda but write to Remus once per two weeks. If he convinced Anemone to write once per two weeks too, they could alternate weeks and Remus would receive one letter per week. It wouldn’t be overbearing and would show him they cared about him despite him not being with Sirius anymore.

“Hadrian.” This time he managed not to flinch when Michael touched his arm. He completely missed Percival Weasley coming up to them.

“Good. You are paying attention right now. Professor Dumbledore requested your presence in his office right now. Charles and Anemone were requested too. I don’t know more, I am sorry.”

“We’ll be waiting here for you, and if the meeting will run late, I’ll take your things to our room,” offered Terry and Hadrian placed a bookmark on the right page before closing it.

“I will leave you everything here.”

He hadn’t had the slightest idea what it could be about but he couldn’t help being nervous. It couldn’t be anything good if they were all asked to come at the same time.

“Do you really know nothing, Percy?” he asked when they were far enough from his friends and the library.

“Well, professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to the Headmaster and she looked serious but not grim or like it was terrible news. I remember when she asked me to bring to her third year Gryffindor. I knew she had bad news for him from her expression and she told him his Grandmother has passed away.”

So at least no one had died, which helped him ease his nerves. But now, what could it be? He didn’t want to overthink too much, especially when he would get to know in a few minutes.

They met Anemone with professor Sprout in the corridor and she let Percy go. Anemone looked stressed and worried, so he held her hand like when they were children, not caring that someone could see them. 

Sprout spoke the password to the gargoyle who guarded the entrance to the Headmaster’s office and let them go up alone.

“Do you know what it is about?” asked Anemone in a small voice.

“I think it’s nothing terrible. Percy said so, when he picked me up from the library, so don’t worry. We will get to know soon and then we will deal with it.”

“Can we talk after this?”

Anemone wanted to say something else but he silenced her with squeezing her hand delicately, putting a finger to his own lips and then ear. Who knew if Dumbledore wasn’t listening? She caught up immediately and nodded.

“Sure,” he said quickly because it would be unnatural if he hadn’t replied and someone listened.

They were nearing the top of the staircase, so he let go of her hand. Hadrian hoped they wouldn’t have to meet their father because he had no wish to see him. Especially after his father’s explanation of events, which was getting him fired up inside every time he thought about it.

Hadrian never has been to the Headmaster’s office, so he didn’t know what to expect. He certainly hadn’t imagined it being so… loud. There were a lot of quiet noises, some of them coming from numerous silver instruments, which were placed on different tables, whirling and emitting white puffs of smoke. The room itself was circular and spacious, the walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, which he knew from  _ Hogwarts. History.  _ Hadrian would curse them silent if they always snoozed like that in their frames. And then he saw the Sorting Hat on the top of the shelf behind the large desk. It looked dusty and shabby as always. Wasn’t there a way to take care of it better? Surely, the old shelf wasn’t the most dignified place to keep it. Especially when it allowed the Sorting Hat to be a health hazard with all of this dust.

“We have to wait for young Charles. Why don’t you take a seat?” Dumbledore asked. Hadrian nearly startled himself because he honestly hadn’t noticed the elderly wizard standing by the window.

They obediently sat on the plush chairs in front of the massive desk and exchanged looks. Dumbledore didn’t seem grim at all like nothing really terrible had happened. So why were they here? The Headmaster didn’t speak to them, silently moving behind his desk and folded his hands. It was a very cheap intimidation technique in Hadrian’s opinion but he played along, looking around as if he was uncomfortable in the Headmaster’s presence and didn’t know what to do with himself. He and Anemone knew it wasn’t wise to look Dumbledore in the eyes, so she stared at her lap. Clever girl.

They hadn’t waited long for Charles. Maybe three or four minutes after they sat down, the door opened again and Charles came inside visibly worried.

“Oh, Charles. Sit down my boy, we were waiting for you,” said the Headmaster.

Anemone hadn’t even looked at their brother, completely ignoring his presence. She focused on the desk in front of them and Hadrian chose to look directly at the tip of Headmaster’s nose.

“My children, certainly you are wondering why I asked you to come here. I wanted to prepare you for the news that will be printed tomorrow in the newspapers and offer a bit of advice. I am sure you remember the recent break out of the Azkaban. It’s hard to even think about it, but you know about the role your father had in capturing both Mr. Crouch and Mr. Rowle. Last night a body of young muggleborn woman was found, which is tragic on its own but it’s not all. The threat was made towards your family, so I ask you to be careful. You are completely safe in Hogwarts but the summer break is coming. Travel with floo directly, don’t leave the main alley’s, don’t trust unknown people. Watch out for each other just in case. I am sure the Aurors will find them soon but you can’t take a risk.”

But what thread was made? Headmaster’s words were very vague and focused on keeping them safe but the morbid part of Hadrian’s mind was curious about how it was clear that Crouch and Rowle were after them. Did they paint something with blood on the wall? It would be a surprisingly muggle way of making the threat but Crouch was also insane.

“… so go to your friends and remember to be careful and observant!” ended his monologue Dumbledore with a grandfatherly voice and smile. “Could you stay for a bit longer, Hadrian?”

“Of course, Headmaster,” he agreed although he wanted nothing more to get out of here. Anemone would probably wait for him downstairs so it wasn’t a problem but being with Dumbledore alone was. He had an inkling about what he wanted to speak with him, and if he wasn’t wrong about it, he had an intention to ignore it all.

“My boy, how are your studies going?” began Dumbledore, when Anemone and Charles left the office. It was an innocent enough question but Hadrian wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Satisfying, Headmaster. I am glad I was sorted into Ravenclaw where I met a lot of people focused strongly on studying. I hope to maintain high grades because I want to choose three subjects next year instead of standard two.”

“I am sure you would achieve it. Your grades are truly impressive. A brilliant mind, just like your mother.”

“She’s a huge inspiration, sir.” This conversation was so artificial he wanted to vomit.

“She is, she is, my boy. I heard you organized an inter-house study group?”

“It was a mutual idea, sir. We wanted to study together and improve our skills. Somewhere in the process, other students joined in.”

“And how are your plans for the summer?”

“I will be staying with my friends.”

“I admit I would feel better if you stayed with your family, my boy. It would be an undoubtedly safer choice.”

“I’ll stay safe behind my friends’ families’ wards, sir. There is no need to worry.”

“And what friends would it be?” Dumbledore’s eyes lost its twinkle but the pleasant smile stayed in its place.

“Excuse me, sir, but I fail to see how it’s important. I will be safe.”

“You see, young man, when you are young and impressionable, it’s easy to make friends and find companionship with different people. But sometimes we fail to see the bad and ugly in those dear to us, who offer the understanding and include us. Especially if we want to be included. Some people aren’t, in fact, good people to have on our side and are dragging us down. Some people look at different from them with disgust, have very strong opinions and a lot of hatred which pushes them to do horrible things. We have to be able to distance ourselves and see them for what they are, my boy. They can lead us along a dark path to even darker places… and people.”

“Thank you for your advice, sir.” Hadrian was fuming inside. There was no way he would separate himself from his friends and come back home. He would blackmail James with all he had if it was needed. He would hate to be roped into this whole Order business and Dumbledore’s obsessions.

Dumbledore sighed heavily as if to guilt Hadrian into declaring he won’t be leaving the Potter’s Cottage this summer.

“You can go now, Hadrian, run along. Best of luck in your exams, my boy,” he ended and Hadrian got up and left the office with  _ goodbye, sir, have a pleasant evening _ .

It was definitely proof that Dumbledore watched his steps in the school. At least in the public spaces because Hadrian would notice a difference in the magic in his walls if the Headmaster tried to eavesdrop on him. He must have been alarmed by his switching between Ravenclaw and Slytherin’s table during the meals. They tended to do that from time to time nowadays, but not too often. Once or twice Draco even came to their study group but overall his friend group hadn’t changed. He wouldn’t call Malfoy or Parkinson his friends. Maybe acquaintances on a good day.

“What did he want?” asked Anemone as soon as he emerged from the entrance behind a gargoyle.

“Warn me about my dark friends and dark places. He wanted to convince me to stay home this summer because it would be safer,” he narrated, casting a silencing charm and infusing it with his magic to keep it brighter and stronger before that. Who knew if the gargoyle listened.

“But you shouldn’t!” The thought of Hadrian being home the whole summer seemed to really worry Anemone.

“And I won’t. I am going with the Corners first, then we will decide further but I will be staying with the Goldsteins or the Boots.”

“Good, although it’s sad I won’t see you during the summer. I am going to be alone a lot. Remus sent you a letter as well, right?” When he nodded, she continued. “I think they are going to bring me to Andromeda or the Weasleys. I would prefer Andromeda, I can’t stand Ronald and Ginny can get annoying too. Tonks is funny at least.”

“I thought about writing to Remus more often. Do you think we can take the turns? I write in one week, in the next it’s your turn, and then so on.”

“Okay. I thought about writing more often too. I don’t like him being alone.”

“Nor do I.”

“Do you think that I can convince father to place me with Andromeda? I could write to you freely and I could tell father that I will be able to keep an eye on Remus with Andromeda.”

“That’s positively cunning,” Hadrian said with a smile. “Are you sure you weren’t meant for Slytherin?”

“Well… Hat considered Slytherin,” admitted Anemone after a while. “Do you think… it’s bad?” she asked and worried her lip. She was clearly concerned about his opinion.

“It’s not bad. I was a hat-stall between Slytherin and Ravenclaw.” She was surprised by his confession but soon smiled widely.

“I think you would look fantastic in green.”

“It would fit you too.”

She wanted to go outside to sit with her friends in the yard, so they parted their ways and after casting a quick  _ tempus  _ Hadrian chose to go back to the library. He found his friends in the company of Morag and Lisa.

“So it is true! You aren’t glued to each other and you let Hadrian out of your eyes!” exclaimed Lisa. Her normally light blond hair was violent purple but she acted like she wasn’t bothered by this. He had to come closer to notice purple sheen to Mandy’s dark locks. Did someone prank them?

“I told you he isn’t imprisoned by us!” joked Michael.

Mandy looked at them, then at Hadrian, and shrugged when he pointed out her hair.

“It was a prank but Lisa got them with the color changing spell and turned their skin orange. So, instant karma.”

“Weasley twins?”

“Yes, but they took it in the stride. One of them charmed another with green hair so they probably look like large carrots.”

If there was one big difference between Charles and Weasley twins, it was their attitude towards revenge. Fred and George always laughed it out and messed around, sometimes congratulating the avenger but they had never thrown back something mean or malicious. At times, Charles did. He almost thought of it as a major offense to his honor and the next prank on this person would be a lot worse or more damaging to their belongings, humiliating even.

“What did he want?”

“Warn us,” he answered shortly. “There should be morbid news in the papers tomorrow.” That got everybody’s attention at once. “Headmaster told my siblings and I to be careful. A woman was murdered. They apparently know it was Crouch and Rowle because at the scene they left direct threat for my family. I don’t know anything more though.”

“How can you be so calm about it?” asked Lisa. “I would be terrified!”

“For once, I doubt they would show up in Hogwarts. During the summer they don’t have a way to track me and I will be behind strong wards. Moreover how would they know who I could potentially live with? The family house is under ridiculous wards. Everything is monitored and we have intention wards up too as the first layer. My photos, or photos of my siblings, were never published to the public, so they don’t really know what we look like.”

“When you put it like this… But still, be careful.”

“I am intending to be, Lisa.” He smiled at her slightly. If he showed he was worried, his friends would be even more bothered. He didn’t want that. Overall, there was a minuscule chance for him to meet the escapees.

He hadn’t had a chance to talk with Michael, Terry and Anthony until after the dinner when they all met in Terry and his room.

“You should be perfectly safe behind any of our wards but it still unsettles me to know that someone could be after you,” admitted Anthony.

“But you know that logically thinking, they wouldn’t have a chance to ambush Hadrian anywhere.” Michael was laying on his back comfortably. His head was nearly on Anthony’s lap. “We travel through an apparition or floo. We could go to the Diagon Alley but I doubt that father or mother would let us go alone with them on the loose anyway. My parents are so paranoid but they could even insist on glamour.”

“We don’t go anywhere, really. I mean, last summer it was either a library or gardens, we changed the manors but it was all. There was this ball during the Yule but I doubt any sane person would want them near their children after all Hadrian told us. The security would be better now. They probably knew about it, because come on… How many of our patents’ circle of friends work in the ministry or are in the Wizengamot. A lot. And they gossip. Sometimes I wonder from whom Anthony inherited his gossiping passion and then I see our fathers and I don’t have to ask anymore.”

“Hey! It’s not like you are better!”

“He is better,” assured Terry. “Anthony, you are the gossip king in the Ravenclaw gossip kingdom. I hate to be the one informing you about it.”

“You and Greengrass formed quite an impressive gossip exchange, by the way. The news travels fast with your aid,” Hadrian joined in. “Witch weekly is quaking.”

“The Quibbler owner’s daughter is a year below us. We can convince her to ask him about creating the gossip column for you.”

Anthony hit Michael with a pillow after that suggestion, and Michael scrambled to all fours to throw himself at him and start tickling. Hadrian would join them, but Anthony kicked and tried to free himself too violently. Last time he did that, he had landed on the floor faster than he blinked because of Michael’s arms. So instead of jumping in, he threw at them a wandless tickling spell to catch them both at the same time. It worked perfectly and left them a bit breathless. He wasn’t so cruel to let them be under that spell for too long.

“Don’t you think that our Hadrian is getting more and more ruthless every day?” breathed out Anthony.

“Did you see him talking back to Smith’s? That sass! What was it with ignore them, until they go away or we hex them away?”

“It’s like watching a child grow.”

“Soon he wouldn’t need us as his backup to scare away people!”

“What would we do then without his cheek?”

“Oh, do shut up,” Hadrian murmured, embarrassed. Terry patted him on the shoulder consolingly. “Or get married already.”

Michael actually sputtered and reddened on his face, although he played it off as startled laughter. Oh, really? Hadrian smiled at him knowingly behind Anthony’s back, blowing him a kiss. He got a stuck-out tongue for the reply.

*

Lughnasadh this year brought an exhilarating feeling. No fear, no confusion, Hadrian just let the magic consume him, flow through him as it wanted and cover him. As if in exchange for that trust, he experienced calmness of mind, he didn’t know he could reach with everything that has been happening in his life.

He wanted to keep this feeling or at least a part of it forever, although he knew it wasn’t possible. It was just a thought but it made him wonder if he could celebrate smaller occasions alone to ground and calm himself during the year and maintain his connection with Mother and the Circle of Life. There must have been a book about it and he always could ask Lady Corner who seemed to be the most informed about things like that. Lord Goldstein wasn’t far behind and Michael’s great-grandmother could be a mine of knowledge when she was in the right mind to share.

This time he wasn’t aware of reality for a good forty minutes and it took the next ten for him to be completely aware of his surroundings. He knew that Mr. Boot and Lord Goldstein were monitoring him closely, and he had recognized their smells. At this point, after all of this time spent together, he could tell them apart by their magic with closed eyes.

They both surprised him during the first days of summer.

Hadrian honestly thought that they wouldn't talk about his surprising and quite terrifying visit at the beginning of the year but they took him aside two evenings after he and the rest arrived at Goldstein's Manor. It was confusing, utterly uncomfortable. He was so used to adults ignoring him or politely inquiring about his life without actually caring for the answer. Adults in his life either cared about ideals more than about him or let him be in the background. Having this kind of parenting attention was… different and not exactly unwelcome but the topic could be buried and forgotten.

They have been talking for two hours and Hadrian remembered feeling exhausted by the end of it. He admitted and told them more than he wanted to, even mentioned the paranoia fueled by Dumbledore and his preaching. Talking about James easily adapting to previously unaccepted things and them becoming a new reality was upsetting. It sounded so much worse when he was retelling some of the arguments or things he heard. He felt much more hopeless admitting that he had no idea what to do from now on. It was nice to know, he could always find a home with the Goldsteins, the Corners or the Boots but there wasn’t much they could do without his father’s consent. The moment James voiced his objection, the only other way to keep himself from him would be a lawsuit or personal visit to his grandmother, who hadn’t cared enough to owl him back. He didn’t want to even think about it, hoping that James would be content with ignoring him until Hadrian could decide for himself.

Hadrian wasn’t a confrontational person at all but if James disrupted what he has built for himself… Hadrian was ready to fight for it.


	4. Alea iacta est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to PhoenixQuake for being a beta-reader for this chapter!

The second murder hit the news on the morning of the fifth of August. It was a horrid massacre, the scene supposedly so terrible, that one of the Aurors had vomited outside of the house.

Hadrian didn’t get to know what caused Dumbledore to think they were in danger after the first crime, but the article in Daily Prophet explained that in the previous crime scene the Aurors discovered a newspaper in which a picture of his father had a hole in it, which was bad, yet not completely clear. A misfired spell could easily pierce a few pages of paper. This time the message was clear. The fact that the whole body was tormented and forced by a spell to form a giant _P_ was downright terrifying, and Hadrian spent the following week waking up at with a feeling of unease, listening intently to catch something suspicious in the dark. Logically, he knew that nothing could harm him inside of the wards surrounding the Goldstein Mansion, but he couldn’t help it.

He noticed the worried looks his friends threw him, but he just smiled and continued forward. The books were a good distraction tactic, and there were a bunch of things he needed to know and learn, so he focused on trying to find as many rituals that could be performed alone as he could. It was not only the matter of finding them, but also understanding what was to be done. He had no idea that performing rituals was so complicated! There were so many things to learn and remember. The books he had only provided little descriptions, and then concentrated on the use and their history. They didn’t explain the theory behind them. Hadrian found it utterly fascinating, and when Lady Goldstein, who happened to be very knowledgeable, pushed him a bit towards runic rituals, his heart was truly stolen Had it not been for Anthony, Michael, and Terry, he wouldn’t leave the table under a large window in the library.

They were making huge progress in the wandless magic, which would be amazing if it hadn’t taken a month of meditation and trying. They had hit the wall after the first success and hadn’t had much time in Hogwarts, as the study group met four times a week. The professors were assigning longer and longer essays and Hadrian had to spend a lot of time on Potions if he wanted to continue with O’s. He wasn’t natural in the subject and didn’t understand a lot, so he revised constantly before every class. Having Michael with him when he was working on his homework helped a lot, but he couldn’t count on Michael during the exams or when he was brewing.

They had been having a lot more problems, with focusing their magic, than Hadrian expected them to have. After getting to the stage where all of his friends finally felt their magic channeling from their bodies to their wands, the next step was to forget about the wand. Anthony admitted that it seemed impossible, that he just didn’t get how to focus his magic by concentrating on the spell and casting it.

It was a part that Hadrian had no idea how to explain. Magic just flew through him, his body channelling it naturally.

“Maybe try visualization?” Hadrian proposed, when Anthony looked so defeated that he wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to quit. “You are wonderful at transfiguration, and big part of it is visualization. Maybe try to imagine the effect of the spell and push your magic into it? Do it like you would cast a spell to transmute a button into a needle. You got it on your first try, you believed it would work and you were so confident about it.”

“Do you think it would work? With something like _wingardium leviosa_?”

“I mean, I have an advantage of seeing magic… So, I see what I do most of the times. I see weak points and I can guide magic in the right direction,” he admitted. “If I want my _lumos_ to be brighter, I push my magic into it, and when it’s bright enough I stop.”

“So, you think if I imagine my magic centering into, for example, a ball, and then I push it with an intent into a spell while imagining the effect… It will work?” asked Michael.

“Well, I don’t know about imagining the ball, but that is the idea.” Hadrian pondered about it a while longer. “I think it’s worth trying it… Anthony, why don’t you actually try to transfigure a button into a needle? It’s transfiguration, you are familiar with the process, you know theory behind it, and you have casted the spell dozens of times. I know it sounds very ambitious, but you are confident in it. Much more than in Charms. You are unsure about visualization of wingardium leviosa, but you have visualized a button changing into a needle multiple times.”

“It makes sense,” commented Terry. He had a pensive look on his face. “It could work.”

Anthony called one of the House elves, Bubbly, and asked her for couple of buttons, which were provided in a blink of the eye. They all watched in suspense as he eyed the button and closed his eyes. At first Hadrian thought that nothing had happened but then to his amazement, the button turned silver and morphed into a thin oval. It wasn’t a needle but… it was really close. 

He was so excited for Anthony that he hugged him as Michael whooped. Terry stared at the button in amazement, but he was smiling widely.

“Did I do it?” Anthony opened his eyes with a smile but then looked at his transmutation. “It’s embarrassingly bad… It’s not a needle.”

“But you used your magic wandless! You can practice it, but you got it!” Michael was almost jumping in his chair. “I want to try it too!”

Michael didn’t manage to transmute the button into anything, but he successfully charmed it to a different color after two tries. Terry wasn’t far behind, although he hadn’t given up with _wingardium leviosa_ and actually made the button shake a bit before he tried with the color changing charm. It worked.

“I think that the color changing spell works because it’s really easy to visualize and you can clearly state the intent. I wanted it green and I pushed my magic into the spell like Hadrian was telling us to. I could feel my magic focus because of the simplicity of the task but it was still difficult. Anthony, try it,” said Terry in wonder.

Anthony hadn’t had much trouble with changing the color of his button. This time he didn’t close his eyes and Hadrian could see pure happiness sparkling in his eyes.

“Why did I have problems with levitation spell then?” Anthony asked Hadrian.

“Maybe it was a foreign concept?” He shrugged. “I can see magic pushing objects up. So, I had the visualization part behind me automatically. And when I got a hang of channelling and focusing magic, and I got to know how it felt like, I casted the spell, and figured that I didn’t need it. It is possible.”

“Or maybe you have natural talent towards wandless magic? Did you read the whole book about manipulation of magic?” Michael moved his button to the side and leaned on the table, propping his head on his hands.

“I did but I do a lot of it when I cast. There isn’t a spell to make another spell stronger. You have to cancel it and then cast again, and I just push my magic into a spell and make the color brighter.”

“We have to explore more about it.”

“I plan to do. Imagine doing it with Runes.”

“Manipulating Runes with magic is far more dangerous. Promise you wouldn’t try it alone,” said Anthony seriously and Hadrian nodded in agreement. “But back to buttons… Do you think we could show my father?”

Hadrian was unsure about it. He didn’t know why because Anthony’s father never discouraged them from learning anything, he just asked them to be careful and mindful of consequences. And Hadrian knew he hadn’t been teaching his friends dangerous spells. The worst thing that happened was Michael getting a headache after two hours of trying to lift his feather or make it hover.

On the other side, Hadrian knew very well about Anthony’s need to impress his father. In his academically oriented family, where everyone hailed from Ravenclaw or had a passion for learning,, it was hard to stand out, unless someone accomplished something truly astonishing. He had no idea if this was caused by the rivalry between pureblood heirs, where perfection and outdoing each other was an old contest, but it was likely. According to his friends, wandless magic was a truly impressive skill, especially on the scale that Hadrian used it, so they jumped in when Hadrian told them about the possibility that it could be a trained ability. And Anthony was wandlessly transmuting! From what Hadrian read in books that they had shown him, it was an amazing achievement.

“Let’s see if he’s busy.”

Anthony sent him a blinding smile.

“Bubbly,” Anthony called, and the House elf popped in immediately, “could you see if father is busy and if he could join us?”

At this time of the day, Anthony’s father shouldn’t be doing anything important because he usually reserved his mornings for the most pressing matters. It hadn’t meant that he wasn’t occupied other way or even left the Manor without telling them about it earlier.

“Young Master, I be’s checking and Master will join shortly,” informed Bubbly. She was energetic little thing and always seemed to be enthusiastic about the littlest task.

“Thank you, Bubbly. That’s all,” replied Anthony. He looked at his button again, cancelled the spell with his wand, returning the button to its previous state, and then tried to transmute it again. This time the button morphed into a nearly perfect needle. Still a bit too rounded and matted, although the improvement was clear. “Father is going to be shocked! My tutor told him there was no chance I could use wandless magic at all. And here it is, after nearly six months of working on it!”

Hadrian enjoyed seeing Anthony this enthusiastic and energetic. He was normally so calm and collected. Of course, he laughed with them, was easily excited by books or new things to research but he rarely was so open and unguarded.

“Father!” Anthony greeted Lord Goldstein with a smile.

“Mr. Jonathan,” they followed. Not that long before, maybe two weeks ago, he allowed them to call him Mr. Jonathan instead of Lord Goldstein in private settings. Anthony joked that a bit longer and it may change to Uncle Jonathan, like it did with Mr. Boot. Calling Terry’s father Uncle Jeremiah was weird, but Mr. Boot was always more approachable from all of his friends’ parents.

“I think I haven’t seen you this elated for a very long time, son. What did you boys do?” asked Mr. Jonathan, sitting with them at the huge round table. There were eight chairs and every person sitting could have a lot of space for themselves.

Anthony’s father looked at the buttons, clearly curious.

“Remember when Mr. Yaxley told you that I won’t be able to use wandless magic? I have something to show you. I asked Hadrian if he could teach us, and…,” said Anthony and laid his wand on the table and took one of the buttons to bring it closer. And then… nearly-needle again. Slightly more pointed, still too thick, but undoubtedly silver.

“Show me again,” demanded Lord Goldstein casting _finite_ with his own wand and reversing the spell. The nearly-needle was once again a button.

Anthony transfigured it again under watchful eye of his father, who inspected it carefully, and then he turned his head towards Hadrian.

“Who taught you?” he asked. “I hired the best tutors but every one of them claimed that Anthony hadn’t inherited the talent.” 

“Nobody ever taught me,” Hadrian told him truthfully, and then proceeded to tell Mr. Jonathan about his curiosity and experiments with wandless magic and his ability to see it. He knew that Lord Goldstein will probably want a demonstration, so as he was talking, he conjured ball of light with lumos and maneuvered it through the air before he cancelled the spell. “I casted an anti-theft charm wandlessly and it started our discussion, because… well… I don’t think it’s an inherited ability at all. Of course, someone could have a talent for it or have it easier like me with my magic sensitivity, but I had to train myself in it. It just didn’t appear one day, so I thought of it more like of trained ability.”

“Majority of wizards don’t think about channelling magic at all. They cast spells with their wands, and it works, so it’s good enough for them. The only ways they experienced wandless magic is during their childhoods, when the accidental magic manifests, but they gain control over it and forget about it. And if it happened once, why it can’t be recreated again? Children don’t use wands, so they channel their magic with their body and intention. It’s not conscious spellcasting because there isn’t even spell involved. If child is put in the situation where they want something, they don’t even realize that they tap into their magic with their want, but it’s not specified so the effect differs. It lacks intent. It’s easier to teach yourself to pay attention to the flow of the magic in your body when you never held a wand. I am not surprised I hadn’t had to learn the basics of Occlumency first, like Anthony, Michael or Terry.”

“We had no idea how to pay attention to the magic in our body. Hadrian told us it’s always channelling trough us, but a wand simply concentrates it. With wandless magic we are using our will to concentrate it,” added Terry, when Hadrian stopped speaking for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I didn’t know any other method than mine and I am at an advantage here. We had to adjust it somehow, so we have been trying with the trial and error method and keeping notes of everything, so we could analyze them later…” Hadrian paused for a moment. “The steps are clear. Firstly, you have to feel your magic and how its channeled through your body to your wand. We needed the basics of Occlumency here and it took a long time. Secondly, you have to trace the flow of magic while casting spells. Understanding and knowing the feeling really helps. Next, you have to forget about your wand and try to cast a spell without it, push the magic with intent, while concentrating on the result, because we just found out that visualization of the result does wonders. We were stuck on this part for a while, and I proposed to forget about wingardium leviosa. I started with it, but I generally know where to push my magic because I can see it. It isn’t hard for me to visualize an effect of the spell, but everyone had a problem with it, so I proposed transfiguration for Anthony or the color changing charm. I know that transfiguration sounds really advanced, but Anthony is good at it, the best in our year, so for him it comes naturally. The spells don’t come out right if you are doubting yourself, so, there is a big chance that casting wandlessly won’t be that different. And Anthony transfigured the button. Not perfectly but the next two tries were better and better. Terry and Michael managed to change colors of their buttons with little to no trouble as compared to the previous weeks of trying to levitate a quill. But it’s not that important. They casted wandlessly. I think we can move to tracing the flow of magic again, so they can feel what they are doing, and then move to different spells because the mechanism is the same.”

Lord Goldstein looked at him with pure astonishment on his face, which made Hadrian uneasy. Did he spout some completely deranged ideas? Were they wrong? Did he go about wandless magic in a completely roundabout way?

“And you think that it can be taught to anyone?”

“Well, we haven’t tried to teach anyone else, but I think yes. I mean, if someone is patient enough and willing to dedicate themselves and spend time in learning the basics of Occlumency? Why shouldn’t it work? Especially when every single wizard has experienced accidental magic as a child. I don’t know if everyone will be able to master it though. If I had to compare it to something, I would compare wandless magic to mind arts.”

“And you have notes of every step? Can I see them?”

“Here,” Michael moved a small notebook across the table. “But Hadrian will have to key your magical signature to the anti-theft spell first, sir.”

“You can also do it wandlessly?” asked Mr. Jonathan.

Hadrian nodded. He let Anthony’s father test the charm with his own hands and then adjusted it rather quickly. He was used to the presence of Lord Goldstein’s magic and its heavy lavender smell, and he had done the spell multiple times already.

“You hadn’t even touched it,” commented Lord Goldstein opening the notebook curiously.

“I didn’t need too. I mean, when I cast a spell like this for the first time, I prefer to touch the subject. The more I cast it, the more... shortcuts I can allow myself to take. It’s more instinctual. It’s not that different from casting with a wand. The first time requires the most concentration, and then it’s done mechanically. We don’t think that much while casting the hundredth _accio_.”

Lord Goldstein hummed, already engrossed in their notes.

It was nerve-racking for Hadrian. Nobody had ever read his independent and unrelated to schoolwork project. At least no one with real life experience in magical researches, spell development or magical theory.

“Did you managed to make any new groundbreaking discoveries apart from this?”

Hadrian hadn’t thought about it as a discovery. More like a mere observation because that’s all it was for him. He wrote down his experiences and observations, and his friends helped in recreating the process and added their own thoughts, which helped Hadrian to reach some conclusions about drawbacks he faced before. It was nothing like discovering new spells or creating new runes sequences and wards. Lord Goldstein laughed warmly when he said so loudly.

“It’s not always about creating something which hadn’t existed before. Sometimes it’s about seeing dependencies between branches of magic or noticing laws governing them that no one pointed out. Methodology and formulation of new theories is as important as creating powerful spells, which is what you did. You formulated a new magical theory and are in the progress of proving it. When it’s done, you could easily write a paper and publish it. Even a book. It would be an amazing beginning to Magical Theory Mastery. I doubt there is a master who would ignore you with a publication like that. But I would publish it first. I have seen too many Masters taking credit for their students work. I think it would be beneficial to keep it a secret for the same reason. You wouldn’t want to teach someone who then could publish it instead of you.”

Hadrian was a bit stunned. A publication? A Mastery in Magical Theory?

“Would anyone take it seriously?” he asked because he couldn’t help himself.

“Now probably not. But in two or three years? Right after your OWLs? It wouldn’t be unheard of. Severus Snape published his first paper in the Potionist in his sixth year, Albus Dumbledore made a discovery in transfiguration at fourteen but it was published with his transfiguration teacher as a joined work. Aster Greengrass née Rosier discovered new use of ehwaz rune at thirteen… There was probably a lot more of people like that.”

Could he do it?

*

The ball at the Goldstein Manor was an unusual event but wizarding world really centered around numbers three and seven, so Anthony’s mother forty-second birthday apparently called for big celebration.

The ball meant new robes, and Lady Goldstein had rushed them to the tailor a week before, to fit them with something appropriate. Hadrian tried protesting when she wanted to pay for him. He had his own money and his family wasn’t poor. The allowance was still coming in steady flow, so he could spoil himself with new robes from time to time, especially when his friends’ parents were feeding him during summer and Yule. He knew that it probably hadn’t made even a slightest dent in the Goldsteins’ or Corners’ vaults but letting them care for everything when he wasn’t their child was making him feel wrong. As if he was a leech. 

Beatrice Goldstein cared little about his feelings in that matter when he tried to pay for himself. She stopped him swiftly when she told him that she asked the tailor to charge her vaults with everything. Saying it, she really sounded like it was nothing. Hadrian felt like she was more concerned about matching a shirt to the deep green of his new robe, and then on finding that potion which wonderfully tamed his hair in the Apothecary nearby, than about spending more than hundred and fifty galleons on a child that wasn’t hers.

It wasn’t like Hadrian hadn’t got clothes of good quality but neither his mother or James went to any galas, balls or celebrations. They weren’t very fond of robes. His mother almost never wore anything like that, so he wore the only robe he had to Yule Celebrations last year. He had grown a little so it wasn’t going to be at the right length and the sleeves ought to be a bit short by now but Hadrian suspected that even if it did fit, Lady Goldstein would talk him into buying new one.

He ended up with a robe in a deep green color from a material that looked like much thicker satin. It flowed nicely and flared at the bottom. The dress shirt Lady Goldstein had chosen for him was green too, but it was so dark, someone could easily mistake it for black. It had a slight shine to it. Was it a new trend or something? At least material of his trousers was matte. The tailor wanted to make them in dark blue but Hadrian had no wish to look like a peacock, so he negotiated dark charcoal, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

If he thought of himself as fussy, it was nothing next to Anthony. He was arguing everything in his new robes – starting from the buttons, then the stitching, ending on gold elements. He was even more particular when it came to his shirt and trousers, which was getting on Michael’s nerves. He would say something for sure, if it wasn’t for Terry and his strategically asked questions about numbers and their relations to potions. Trust Terry to bring a book with himself for the Lady Goldstein shopping spree.

Nearing the end, Hadrian was regretting not taking something to read with him too and he laid his head on Terry’s shoulder to read with him. It wasn’t that interesting because Hadrian wasn’t as advanced in Arithmancy as Terry and he couldn’t understand half of the paragraphs he read but it was still better than sitting and staring at nothing.

The shopping hadn’t ended just with the robes because Lady Goldstein roped him into going to a magical hairdresser with her. He was the only one in their group who had longer hair and they currently were at an awkward length, just past his chin. The curls were sometimes getting a bit frizzy, so his hair had a tendency to look like an unfolded fan put upside down. He didn’t want to cut it shorter, so he opted for getting it elongated with a potion, and he wasn’t disappointed with results. They looked so much better at shoulder length and he could pull them into a ponytail without a problem. He bought five bottles of curl defining potion, which had to be applied once a week to help with the frizz. He certainly didn’t want to look like brushed poodle in the future.

“Well, Hadrian, we look a lot more put together for sure,” Lady Goldstein told him when they were leaving.

“It’s a wonder what a simple moisturizing treatment can do to one’s hair,” he answered with a smile. She laughed warmly, which was a good sign, because Hadrian didn’t know if he had overstepped. He always answered in this tone when his mother did something to smooth out her complexion. He guessed that just as his mother refused to admit that her flawless skin wasn’t that perfect, Beatrice Goldstein did not quite want to admit that the shade of her blonde hair was not entirely natural. Hadrian wasn’t keen on letting the world know that his hair had a tendency to look like a bird nest without smoothing potion too.

“I feel like my mother prefers you over me sometimes. Can I call you brother now?” Anthony teased him on their way back to the Mansion.

“Hey, why should he be your brother? Maybe I want him to become mine,” Michael joined in, and Terry snorted.

“As if. If Hadrian would want to become someone’s brother, he would want to become mine. We basically live together,” he said.

“Basically live together is something that is pointed out when it’s time to get married, Terry,” Anthony said with playful smile. “Do you want to confess something?”

“Yes, my undying brotherly love for Hadrian.” Terry rolled his eyes.

“Don’t fight over me, boys. I will pay you the same amount of attention from now on. No need for jealousy,” Hadrian answered them with the most condescending tone he could muster, and they burst into giggles. 

On the day of the ball, the house elves really outdid themselves under Lady Goldstein’s guidance. The ballroom was a perfect example of the ideal balance between sophisticated and glamorous. The menu was mostly French, and Hadrian couldn't pronounce even half the things that were supposed to appear on the tables that night. He was a bit curious, but the fact that he heard something about snails effectively curbed that curiosity in a moment.

“I haven’t seen the guest list, but I know is very long,” Anthony told them when they were playing last round of chess before they had to get ready. “But the security should be at its best. Since they added a lot of wards outside…”

“… I know. I was there when they were casting them to look for weak points,” Hadrian told him and rolled his eyes. Anthony was still worried about Crouch Jr. and Rowle, and he was going about the best security they could provide for last two or three days. Hadrian had had enough of the topic, but he appreciated that someone worried about his safety this much. “It’s going to be fine. No one will kidnap me from the party when I know for sure that none of you is letting me anywhere out of your sights. The guests are allowed nowhere else other than the ballroom, the bathroom near it and the hallway. All the other corridors and doors are closed. It’s probably more than enough.”

Logically, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful, but Hadrian doubted that two Azkaban escapees would show themselves at high class party on a warded property with monitored space. They weren’t that stupid if they’d escaped the prison. And they still had no way to know that Hadrian was here.

Hadrian was still deep in his thoughts when they parted their ways to get ready. After such a long period of time, when nothing had happened that could indicate that Rowle and Crouch Jr. knew how Hadrian and his siblings looked like or where they were, his anxiety decreased a lot. Maybe it was stupid, but it wasn’t like he was parading daily alone through Diagon Alley or going into side alleys with strangers.

He put on emerald earrings and looked critically at his reflection. Everything fit together nicely and worked out as a whole. Hadrian was glad he let himself be talked into piercing ears together with Michael because he really loved how they looked. He never enjoyed jewelry, but he could see himself with a larger selection of earrings in the future.

“We chose matching earrings!” exclaimed Michael pointing on his simple ruby studs, when they met on the grand stairs. He was dressed in browns and gold, which looked nice and put together. Hadrian with horror realized he’s going to be really visible among all the guests in deep green.

As if he read his mind, Michael interrupted his train of thought. “Stop it, you are looking fine. You wouldn’t believe how many eye-catching colors are going to be worn tonight. There is a bet on how awful Lady Parkinson’s dress is going to be. Last year it was orange. Orange! It was the worst she had ever worn to a ball.”

“Don’t let her hear you,” Anthony interrupted them, coming down in his navy-blue robes with Terry in his charcoal grey ones behind him. “Come on, let’s go to the ballroom. My parents are going to welcome the guests, but they asked us to stay inside the room for safety. Let’s choose a nice corner for us till we see someone we know and want to talk to. It’s going to be crowded.”

“You mean a nice corner with a nice view of the ballroom, so you can judge the robes of every single person who enters, like an old bored and frustrated lady,” commented Terry raising his brow. “You won’t deceive us. I know it’s your favorite hobby.”

“Because after the second ball you’ll notice that every single one is the same. I have no business to talk about and no influence, so all that is left for me is chatting with people from Hogwarts, maybe aunt or two, talk about my marks with an uncle I haven’t seen since last year and then stuff my face with finger food. I can at least amuse myself by pointing out people who can’t dress themselves.”

“You are a mean prat sometimes,” murmured Michael, and almost immediately was hit in the shoulder.

“Only sometimes?” inquired Terry playfully and quickened his steps swiftly in order to avoid being hit as well.

“We like you anyway,” Hadrian told Anthony consolingly and patted him on the shoulder lightly. “Come on before the first guest arrives. Do you know if Daphne or Theodore are coming? Or Morag?”

Anthony wasn’t sure about Morag, but Daphne and Theodore were invited for sure. Hadrian hoped they weren’t going to push him into dancing like last time, but it was a lost cause. One of his friends always led him to a dance floor, where Hadrian wished very hard that his distaste wasn’t showing on his face. He detested dancing. Twirling and swaying in a group of people who were doing the same thing with music and chatter in the background, gave him too many stimuli at once.

The ballroom was slowly filling with people and Hadrian hadn’t noticed when the first person came in. It had started happening more and more. He would just loose time, lost in his thoughts. It was too weird to call it just deep thinking. At times he had been having trouble with coming back to reality. He couldn’t describe it right, but he knew it started getting noticeable when a pat on the arm couldn’t bring him back. His friends would just wait it out, steering him through corridors or preventing him from falling down the stairs. They even told Mr. Boot, but even after few spells, he hadn’t found anything wrong with him, although he too noticed what was happening. There was really no telling when Hadrian would just lock himself in his thoughts.

What was ridiculous, the periods of time when he was more prone to drifting off, came and went without a clear pattern. There were weeks when nothing happened and two days when Hadrian was not there for around twenty minutes every few hours. While it should be scary, to Hadrian, it felt so natural that sometimes he was almost happy to let himself get lost in his mind for peace and quiet.

And while it felt natural, it certainly wasn’t, so people were going to notice this quirk soon. It shouldn’t be happening, and Mr. Boot promised to look into it. But as of recently, his only answer was a session with a mind-healer, to which Hadrian wasn’t opposed to, but the permission from his guardian was needed and he had no wish to tell James what he was experiencing, just to be laughed at. He could contact his mother, but she would take him home, embarrassed that he had mental problems and was showing it in front of other families. Sirius would have been a possibility if he wasn’t on the continent, doing whatever for French Ministry. Of course, they could search for private healer who wouldn’t care who he was hired by, but it was expensive. Hadrian didn’t want his friends to pay for anything like that and it wasn’t so bad. If he concentrated, he could fight it off and stay in the reality.

“I see Morag,” Terry informed them. “And I think I see Theodore walking towards us. Yes, that’s him.”

“Daphne should be here too, because I see her mother.” Michael craned his neck a bit.

People were still arriving, so soon they were joined not only by Theodore and Morag, but also by Daphne, her younger sister, Ernie McMillan and then finally by Draco Malfoy. For some reason Hadrian hadn’t expected Malfoys to be here, but if Parkinsons and Notts accepted the invite, he shouldn’t be surprised to see him there as well.

“I saw Millicent Bulstrode talking with Lily Moon earlier,” said Draco, “but please hide me from them. Moon’s mother is convincing my mother to start a contract negotiation, and she always wants to talk with me. Bulstrode’s father is hinting the same and it’s definitely not what I want.”

“Are you hiding from every daughter of your parents’ friends?” teased Morag good-naturedly. She had ducked behind Anthony and Michael earlier when she saw Zachary Smith, who had a terrible crush on her.

“Well, I am a Malfoy.” There was such an arrogance in his words that could came only from a Malfoy. It was definitely a special brand of being self-assured. Hadrian was suddenly glad that Anthony wasn’t this bad, although sometimes there was potential for him to be more similar to Malfoy. “Hadrian, I would like to introduce you to my father and mother. Would you let me?”

“Of course, Draco.” Anything else would be utterly impolite to say, even if Hadrian would prefer not to meet Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy at all. If he found Lord Nott intimidating, Lord Malfoy was something else. Everything about him screamed wealthy, proud, confident and disgusted with everything which wasn’t up to his standards. He had this look about him. Like he walked by things and people unworthy of his presence. He made Hadrian nervous and efficiently stifled any desire to interact with him in any way. Although he doubted that they would exchange more than a polite hello. Lord Malfoy had no need to speak with him and neither did his wife.

Meeting Malfoys wouldn’t be so bad, but Hadrian never was that lucky. Never. If December was always a disaster, then August was somewhat of a preview, just to get a taste. Because how else could someone explain him seeing Professor Snape watching him as he was being led, with his hand on Draco's forearm, towards two people Dumbledore liked to present as Riddle’s faithful followers. The situation got even worse when they came closer. They were standing with Lestranges! Heir Lestrange with his wife Bellatrix and his younger brother didn’t looked like they were going to end their conversation at all, so the chances that Snape wouldn’t witness him greeting all five of them, were almost in the negatives. He was friends with his mother, and he knew how she stood by her husband on the matter of dark wizards… He could easily tell her. But on the other side Hadrian knew that Potions professor was close, not only to Lord Malfoy but also Regulus Black, so maybe there was a chance that his presence at this ball would remain a secret.

Bellatrix Lestrange née Black was beautiful woman with elegant curves, sharp features, piercing grey eyes, pale skin, and a storm of black curls that cascaded over her bare shoulders, adorned with a crystal hairpin. What surprised him was how similar they looked. The hair color, the curls, their skin tone and cheekbones… She could be his mother if he hadn’t had Lily Evans’ eyes, although she had a stronger build than him. Bellatrix was similar to Sirius and Regulus in a way too. Much more to Regulus. Narcissa shared their features, but she had inherited more from the Rosiers than from Black side of the family.

Her husband and his younger brother could be twins, because two years difference was hardly visible and they had the exact same coloring, the same dark wavy hair barely touching the sharpest jawbones Hadrian had ever seen, dark blue eyes and strong Roman noses. Both dressed like the rich wizarding aristocrats they were, handsome and elegant.

Draco was splitting image of his father. Everything was the same – platinum hair, silvery gray eyes, pointy chins and high cheekbones with eyebrows so fair that they were hardly visible. Almost elfish in appearance, came to his mind and he instantly made a connection with Tolkien. Although Hadrian was fairly sure, Lucius Malfoy wouldn’t be caught wearing white or light blue.

“Mother, father,” Draco greeted his parents, and Hadrian could see that no one expected him. He didn’t have to look Bellatrix in the face to feel her piercing gaze on him. Narcissa barely hidden her surprise under her calm and composed mask. “I would like to introduce you to Heir Goldstein’s guest for the summer, Hadrian Potter from the Noble House of Potter. He’s a Ravenclaw from my year and is leading the Ravenclaw-Slytherin study group I told you about.” Hadrian had no idea what Draco told his parents, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t leading any group. They studied together and that was all. The only advantage he had was over accepting new students into it, because he never felt comfortable around new people. Maybe that was what led Draco to the conclusion? “Aunt Dorea’s grandson and Uncle Sirius’ godson, mother, aunt.” Was it a play to push him into Black family? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Draco or to thank him at this moment.

He greeted everyone calmly and politely with a neutral expression on his face to show that he didn’t have any prejudices towards anyone. Hadrian clearly remembered that _the Black matters are Black matters and stay between Blacks_ , which his grandmother repeated constantly, and it was probably only thing that kept two sisters from asking questions about family relations in public. There wasn’t a grain of doubt that he was on their radar now. What was more important was what they were going to do about it.

They hadn’t let him go instantly, instead Narcissa engaged him in a pretty shallow conversation about his school, managed to interrogate him on the participants of study group and his plans to become Magical Theorist and Rune Master. At this point, Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange joined in, while Lucius and Rodolphus maintained their conversation about the Wizengamot on the side.

Hadrian had heard the rumors about Black madness and Bellatrix inheriting a good share of it, and he could tell that there was a disquieting glint in her eyes. If someone was great for the role of a mad woman in a movie, she probably would do wonderfully. She was also wickedly intelligent and apparently had mastery in Arithmancy and was working as Unspeakable, which was remarkable of its own. A lot of high-class women didn’t work full time jobs. If he remembered correctly, Draco’s mother was a healer before she resigned from working at St. Mungo. Hadrian didn’t understand it at all because he would go stir crazy. But to each their own.

What was baffling, Rabastan Lestrange was talking with him about magical theory. And he didn’t sound condescending or dismissive! Hadrian loved the topic, so he was able to hold a conversation, but he also was willing to admit that he wasn’t familiar with certain topics. Rabastan would be a very good teacher if he gave it a chance. He coaxed out a lot from Hadrian, but the longer Hadrian spoke, the closer they were to the topics where the only explanation for his reasoning could be _because I saw so._ It wasn’t like talents similar to his were a taboo or kept as a secret, but he wasn’t used to talking about it openly like other people did.

The first waltz saved him from admitting anything. It was customary that Lords and Heirs would dance the first song with the celebrating wizards to show that they’re one community, so Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Draco’s parents moved to the dance floor. Of course, the more the merrier. He saw a lot more pairs, for example Michael’s aunt with her husband. It was expected that a lot of people wanted to share this with Lady Goldstein. What Hadrian hadn’t expected was Rabastan’s outstretched hand and an invitation to dance.

Hadrian wasn’t as unobservant as his friends thought he was, so he was well aware of the way Rabastan looked at him the whole time. His gaze wasn’t disturbing or indecent but calculating and assessing, which didn’t make it any less unnerving. Hadrian even noticed Rabastan’s eyes trailing over his face nearly admiringly.

He couldn’t decline without seeming impolite because he had no reason, so he accepted the invitation, trying not to think about how awkward they had to look. He was barely 5 food 45’ and Rabastan towered over him with his 6 foot 3’. The age difference between them was clearly visible, just as was that they had not known each other before. People were _watching._ Hadrian caught Snape looking at them with the corner of his eye, and he could tell that his mother will be informed with how much his professor frowned to himself.

It was very uncomfortable. What disturbed him most of all, was the glances of the other guests, and only later the realization, that a man twenty years older than him, was looking at him in the same way that Lord Nott was – like possible marriage material. Fortunately, Rabastan Lestrange was a gentleman whole time. His hands were kept at proper places, if he even touched Hadrian’s waist at all. Also, they never stopped discussing theory, and when they touched the topics of manipulation, Hadrian got so absorbed into their conversation, he stopped paying attention to other people.

If he wasn’t so put out about by the age difference, he certainly would have enjoyed their dance more, even if it put him quite on the display. He hadn’t noticed when music changed, and barely paid attention when it changed again. It was a bit embarrassing when they came back to Malfoys and Lestranges, and Draco gave him a surprised but very pleased look, before they split up to join Hadrian’s friends again. The embarrassment took over and Hadrian didn’t want to think what was said about him, although they were going to find Rosiers so maybe they had more interesting topics. He hoped so.

“Three dances, Hadrian,” commented Draco when they put a good distance. “I had no idea about what you were speaking about. Were you continuing the conversation on the floor?”

“Well… Yes?” Hadrian was unsure, why it was such a big deal. “I am abysmal at small talk; you should know that.”

“Establishing good first impression. Ravenclaws… I had no idea I am such a good matchmaker. But I suppose I should expect it with your looks.”

Hadrian looked at him with big eyes, really confused, but he had no time to ask what Draco meant because he was swarmed in questions from Daphne and Anthony.

“What did you do?!” Daphne was trying to keep her voice quiet with a good result, but it didn’t curb down her excitement. “Three dances with Rabastan Lestrange?”

“What were you talking about?” Anthony asked. “There wasn’t silent moment from what I saw!”

“And they were talking about newest article about manipulation of casted spell…” Draco said conspiratorially. “The whole time they were talking about theory of magic.”

“I thought you wanted introduce Hadrian to your parents, not marry him off to your uncle,” teased Michael.

“He’s twenty years older than me… and I am thirteen.”

“But in five years you won’t be,” Mandy joined in with a grin. “And I think it’s nineteen.”

“It is,” Draco confirmed and took a drink from a small table near them. “And he doesn’t look old. I mean, he’s not going to look old anytime soon. Twenty years age gap is not uncommon.”

Maybe it wasn’t uncommon, but it was uncomfortable for sure. Hadrian couldn’t imagine a relationship with such a difference in life experience. How could someone that much younger, not feel like a child?

“And how was the dancing?” Daphne clearly wanted to know everything, even if there wasn’t so much to tell.

“He was very proper and pleasant,” he had chosen to say. It was a safe option with Draco in the hearing distance because Hadrian wasn’t too keen on elaborating his thoughts in the public. “Nothing happened, really. We talked about theory as we danced. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time.”

It was apparently wrong thing to say in front of Theodore. If Hadrian hadn’t spent a lot of time with him during school year, he wouldn’t have picked up on it at all. Theodore hid it well. He was clearly irritated, and Hadrian could only conclude that it was because of his dance with Lestrange. There was a glint in his eyes that, when paired with his seemingly calm expression, gave off a very bad vibe. Hadrian couldn’t pinpoint why he felt this way. If Theodore was older – or someone else entirely – Hadrian would probably put a distance between them because it was really unsettling. Like a warning. A bit of like the look James gave him in the public before he screamed and raged at him at home. It was a chilling connotation.

*

He was waiting for the letter from his mother, but it never came. Even the monthly letter hadn’t arrived, and Hadrian wondered briefly if it was new job that kept his mother occupied or she just given up on him.

But Anemone hadn’t heard from their mother either, so it probably wasn’t the second. Lily Potter was very driven woman, who loved a good challenge and working hard, but it made her almost absent. Charles could probably care less, caught up with Fred and George, and he was used to doing his own thing, but Anemone needed her mother. She was a mommy’s girl from the beginning and Hadrian knew how disappointed she was when Lily forgot to write once in a damn month.

What came in the post instead, was an invitation from Andromeda. Hadrian was suspicious about it, since it wasn’t Anemone who wanted to see him, but specifically the oldest of the Black sisters. It was a really bad kept secret that the sisters were still in contact, so he could bet that they talked about him. The question was, why would Andromeda want to talk to him? To tell him that he should stay away? She was mostly Sirius’ acquaintance and James approved of her, which spoke volumes.

There was also a slim chance that it was Narcissa or Bellatrix that wanted talk with him. They were surprised with how similar he looked for sure. They hadn’t expected that, so maybe it got them curious.

It unsettled him and, in the end, he discussed it with Mr. Jonathan, because he couldn’t just leave the Manor on a whim. Lord Goldstein couldn’t tell him what to do or give anything more than a general advice. He wouldn’t be able to do much if James decided to bring Hadrian home or Lily requested him back, although he told Hadrian not to overthink the situation. Maybe it was Anemone who wanted to see him? Maybe Andromeda wanted to invite him to cheer up his sister? Hadrian reluctantly agreed that it was the most possible case.

And that’s how he ended up at Andromeda’s on Friday evening, drinking tea with her and her sisters. Anemone was joining them later since she was spending some time with Remus who might or might not come with her. Worst case scenario, _fuck._

“So how are you enjoying the Goldsteins, Hadrian?” Andromeda inquired politely. “What are you boys doing this summer?”

“Mainly researching our project and going through the library. We were at the Corners for the beginning on the summer.”

“And for the Lughnasadh I heard?” asked Narcissa. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This felt like an interrogation.

“Yes, like the year before. It was a smaller assembly this time.” There was no point of lying and he wasn’t ashamed that he took part in the celebrations at all. If they wanted to see whether he was willing to admit it or not, he would take the bait. “It was lovely. Michael’s great grandmother agreed to lead the ritual.”

“And your father let you?” Narcissa prompted him to tell more.

“We haven’t written to each other or talked since December,” he answered simply, and instantly noted Andromeda’s surprise.

“So, baby Potter… when the cat’s away, the mice will play? Actually, this is so lovely I am going to be sick. Let’s talk about why we are here. You, baby Potter, don’t look much like a Potter, but more like my cousin’s bastard son,” said Bellatrix. Hadrian could appreciate the honesty of the statement.

“Bella!” hissed Narcisa but Hadrian accidentally cut her off.

“I am aware. Father never liked anyone pointing it out, but it’s visible.” He wasn’t going to negate the obvious fact that someone could believe him to be Andromeda’s or Bellatrix’s son quicker than James’. He looked confusingly similar to Regulus too. “He likes to say I took after grandmother.”

“But you have doubts,” stated Bellatrix with a wicked smile. “What a scandal it would be, just imagine.”

“I doubt Lily would cheat on James with Sirius,” Andromeda interrupted them sternly, and frowned when Bellatrix just crossed her legs and waved her hand uncaringly. “And it’s improper to discuss such a matter in front of Hadrian.”

“He’s thirteen, not retarded. Don’t coddle him. There is no shame between Blacks.” Did Bellatrix just admit that she counted him as a Black? It was a weird mix of fantastic and terrifying. “Say Hadrian, what I heard from Lord Nott, about your little gift, is it true? And why from him?”

That question gave him an uncomfortable amount of attention from all three women.

“Because I am friends with Theodore Nott,” he stated calmly. “And it’s not exactly a secret that I see and smell magic.”

“See, see this here?!” screeched Bellatrix, while Narcissa breathed in sharply and Andromeda stared at him blankly. “He has Blacks’ bloodline talents!”

“But how?” uttered Narcissa.

“That’s what I want to know!” exclaimed Bellatrix, and Hadrian wondered how she could become so animated in the span of a few seconds.

“I have a theory,” he offered carefully before he elaborated. He never told anyone of it but he couldn’t exactly get Lord Nott’s words off his mind. And it really got him thinking and pushed him into hunting down a book, specifically on family rituals, like the Godfather Ritual. It hadn’t soothed his worries, especially when he reminded himself about multiple authors warning readers about mistaking the Godfather Ritual with a few, common variants of adoption rituals, which could sound similar to muggle catholic oaths. If Sirius and James never properly learnt about rituals at all, then found a book, and then chose a nice sounding ritual with a misleading name… or joined two rituals, choosing certain words or phrases… They could have made a bigger mistake than they thought. It wouldn’t be easily discovered, since the ritual could be officially recognized by law, only if he admitted himself for blood testing at Gringotts or the Ministry.

Beside his skepticism that they could be so reckless, he also feared that he was right. It would be pure hell if the word got out. And _Walburgia_ Black could be his _grandmother_. It would be pure disaster. He was well aware that Sirius’ mother wanted grandchildren, so she wouldn’t let Hadrian go. He wasn’t ready for that at all, even if it would probably cause Walburgia to give up on matching her son with people of her choosing.

Despite everything, he couldn't deny that he was incredibly curious.

“That’s… possible,” admitted Andromeda, while Bellatrix looked deep in thought. Narcissa requested more tea from a house elf. “James and Sirius often were very arrogant when it came to their skills.”

“I think the word is ignorant, Andy,” said Narcissa, and Hadrian had a proof from who Draco inherited his sharp tongue from. “Although I can’t imagine the amount of sheer incompetency. If it’s true, Hadrian could have been hurt in the process.”

“I think I should bring this up with Remus. There is a possibility that…”

“It’s not that easy, Andy,” Bellatrix cut in. “It’s a Black family matter. We won’t involve outsiders when we don’t need it and we certainly don’t need an outsider for this. A simple ancestry potion should show everything black on white. Or better yet – I brought this with me.” She managed to produce a sheet of papyrus from her wand holder. Hadrian eyed it curiously because he never seen one. “Egyptian Ministry never banned blood runes and they are extremely useful when it comes to determining ancestry. I suspect that Gringotts uses a variant of these. Three drops of blood, kid,” she told him. He could bet that Bellatrix Lestrange was the worst boss someone could have, with her ability to casually bark orders which bore an _or else_ label. She had planned to discover his parentage from the start.

It was an important thing to know. He could use this knowledge to distance himself from James, if he played it right. Technically, he was still a Potter, so, they couldn’t force him to officially admit anything or throw him into Walburgia. Would he have courage to do it at any other time? When would he get his hands on such a ridiculously expensive ancestry potion or blood runes again?

 _Alea iacta est_ , or so it seemed because for Hadrian, it was something like the point of no return. It felt like a huge decision, the most important one in his life so far.

The cut his finger wandlessly and carefully dropped three drops of blood on the straightened papyrus, which was snatched right away by a joyful Bellatrix. Did she ever get a whiplash from her mood swings? 

“Well, kid, you can call me auntie Bella,” she announced gleefully. “You were probably right. Three parents. I am curious if it was ritual from the Black library but looking at you it’s a huge possibility.”

Well, _sweet Circle of Life._ Sirius Black was his father recognized by Magic. Narcissa was clearly stunned into the silence, and Andromeda had faraway look in her eyes.

“It must be the…” said Andromeda to herself. “I borrowed Sirius a book. I don’t remember which one, but I knew about it because I read it in the Black Library. There is a huge chance that they used it. Of course, they could have used another, but I doubt that Sirius would buy any book like that. Do you recall if you have any at home, Hadrian?”

“We don’t. I have read everything we had, so I doubt it. They made their stance on rituals pretty clear, so it was hard to believe they actually used one.”

“And the Potter Manor?” prompted Narcissa.

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember it at all. James and Grandmother always argued, and I was about seven when that escalated and they severed every type of contact. Charles and I couldn’t write to her because our mails were monitored, I am not sure if Anemone even remembers her and she hadn’t written to us either. I haven’t spoken to her once in last eight years. I wrote to her in January, but she hasn’t answered.”

“Suppose it was a ritual from our Library,” began Bellatrix. “ _Toujours pur_ , so it was designed to also purge any blood of muggle ancestry. We don’t know the wording, but since it showed these results, then it would be right to treat it as an adoption. It would place Lily Potter as a surrogate, I think?” She looked at him closely. “No. Not that. An adoption ritual is designed for two people, so they can replace the biological parents. In this case, it lacked the second person, so traits from Potters are much less visible, but still there. It exposed the Black features. He has Dorea Black as a grandmother, in the end. But, that’s only physical. When it comes to magic, the Black rituals prefer the old magic, so it would replace Lily Potter’s magic, as she doesn’t have an ounce of family magic in her. So, I guess, she’s like a surrogate from this point of view.”

“…so physically it’s like half and two quarters, but when it comes to inherited magic it’s half and half?” Hadrian wouldn’t have trouble with understanding it all, if he still wasn’t in a weird state of a stunned disbelief.

“But when we are talking family magic, it would be a quarter Potter and a three-fourth Black,” murmured Narcissa.

It was so much to take in at once. His stomach was starting to hurt and his face felt cold, so he focused on sipping his tea and ignoring the sinking feeling in his chest. It wasn’t a disaster yet. He still had control of the situation.

“It would be madness if the word got out to Walburgia,” added Bellatrix.

“You won’t tell her, Bella. It’s Hadrian’s decision if and when,” stated Andromeda and her tone didn’t leave much for questioning.

Bellatrix raised her brows.

“I wouldn’t want to have that cunt as a grandmother either,” she said, rolled her eyes, and then she looked straight at Hadrian. “At least I can have an intelligent discussion with you. I can’t say that about main branch of family. Your grandfather Orion is silent like a grave and always doing something and Regulus is still in Italy. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Well, I think an oath would be appropriate.” Andromeda told them. “Better safe than sorry, ladies. No hard feelings. It’s not like some of us has troubles keeping secrets after brandy.”

Hadrian witnessed the sisters giving him ordinary oaths to keep their meeting a secret, and he actually felt better. The control was his. It was fine. No one would say anything when he wasn’t prepared or ready. He could have hugged Andromeda for suggesting it, but he figured that it was a common thing between them. Black matters were Black matters, but trust them as far as you can throw them, huh?

He felt exhausted when _his aunts_ decided to leave. Hadrian bid them goodbye, but it was half hearted. His mind had half wandered away.

He wished he had a simpler life. Did his bad luck count as Potter’s Luck still?

“How are you feeling, darling?” Andromeda asked him, once he agreed to wait for Anemone. He had no idea what to say. It hasn’t hit him fully yet.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Do you think I should tell Remus? He was in a relationship with Sirius… Do I tell Sirius?” Hadrian looked at her with wide eyes. He hadn’t thought of Sirius in this new situation at all. Had Sirius suspected something? Was that his reason to work mainly on the continent? What, and how would he even inform him of something like that? _Oh, Sirius – by the way, you are a father. It’s a boy, already thirteen_?!

“It’s your choice, Hadrian. I can’t tell you what to do.”

A part of him wanted to withhold this information. Remus didn’t tell him about everything either, but this was big. He trusted Remus… to the point where he could tell that Remus wouldn’t be feeling like he was doing the best thing. And Remus could tell him if it was worth saying anything to Sirius, or how to do it. Hadrian couldn’t imagine Sirius as a father, and he wouldn’t want him to be one for him. But if he ever needed someone to step in, Sirius would be his best choice. Would he even step in?

His head was beginning to hurt.

“I don’t know what I want to do.”

They sat for a while in silence. It didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward, but actually quite comforting, because he had time to get himself together and try to think. He didn’t have to make a decision now. And he could put it off for some other time. Not infinitely, of course, but still.

Everything had given him some new possibilities, although in reality, not that much changed. He could proceed with his plans for a while, analyze his options and then make new plans. He had time.

“What is with your father? Why is that neither you, nor Anemone, ever speak about him?” asked Andromeda, and Hadrian nearly choked on his tea. She looked at him with a serious expression on her face. “I know that something is wrong, Hadrian. I am a mother. If your three children are never home and spend summers away, then it’s obvious. You don’t speak to him and you called him James.”

Was there a point in lying and saying nothing? She wouldn’t believe in that. And if she asked Anemone, his sister would ask him later, what to do. He was perfectly aware of how Andromeda had bullied Remus into coming in for dinners or to go out with her to hunt down a book in some shopping district. She could be an unstoppable force of nature when she wanted to, and she wasn’t going to let this go.

That didn’t change the fact that he really didn’t want to speak about it. On the other side, Andromeda was one of few people who seemed to care and could actually do something about it or at least help by taking Anemone under her wing. She wasn’t judgmental, but brutally honest.

“You wouldn’t tell him or mother?”

“I’ll give you an oath.” The glint in her eyes was dangerous and her similarities to Bellatrix were clear as day in that moment.

So Hadrian told her about how it all began, about James paranoid behavior and anger, his need to control them, Lily’s absence, discovery of his talents, then Charles, then Ronald and James’ reaction, him choosing to spend summers with his friends, both Decembers, him going for help to Mr. Boot and his broken cheekbone, what Charles told him and Anemone later and them not knowing what to do, but to stick together. He also told her about the meetings in his house and Dumbledore’s obsessions. The supposedly true prophecy, their encouragement towards shunning everything not strictly light and talks about the Dark Lord.

Hadrian talked for a long time and Andromeda barely interrupted him, except for when she asked about her daughter, when he mentioned her. She had no idea what Nymphadora was doing there, and she wasn’t aware of the meetings, but it only showed that she wasn’t as close to James and Sirius as he had thought. It was an uplifting development.

He didn’t know he was crying and breathing heavily until Andromeda gave him a vial of calming draught, which he drank without a word. His hands were shaking again.

“I am going to hug you,” she announced before she embraced him warmly. He couldn’t remember when he was hugged like that by anyone, but it was a nice feeling. It helped more than he thought it could and definitely more than any words.

He breathed out shakily.

“James is a dick.”

He laughed.

That night he didn’t tell Remus anything. He wasn’t sure about it and decided that he wanted to think about it longer. He didn’t say a word to Anemone about his parentage either, although he informed her that he talked about James with Andromeda and if she ever wanted to vent out or needed help, Andromeda was a good person for that. His sister was surprised, but not disappointed or mad. A bit relieved maybe. It was nice to have an adult on their side. Especially someone as levelheaded as Andromeda Tonks.

*

“You are not telling us something,” said Anthony casually, when they were sitting on his bed, trying to figure out how they should organize the study group meetings this year, with such a vast schedule. They had chosen almost the same classes, and just got their lesson plans from Flitwick. The charms professor always gave them out after the welcoming fest, which was the best thing ever, because Hadrian didn’t think he could bear whining in the common room about lack of possibility to plan ahead in the first week. “You are unusually pensive and gloomy.”

“Well…” Hadrian still hadn’t told them about the discovery of his parentage. He wanted to give himself some time and get used to it before he discussed it with anyone else.

“Do you want to speak about it?” asked Terry putting his planner and timetable away. Michael did the same and got comfortable by laying down on his stomach and resting his head on his hands. There wasn’t much space left, so Anthony had to sit almost on Michael’s legs. “You can take your time with it, you know?”

“I reckon I already took my time with it. It just… blew my mind. It’s nothing inherently bad, and I was kind of suspecting something of the sort, but then I got to know and… I guess it took some time to take it in?”

“You are babbling, Hadrian,” Michael informed him, but he looked a bit alarmed. “You are not sick or something, are you?”

“No, that’s not it. Remember when Mrs. Tonks asked me to visit her and Anne? Well, Anne wasn’t there for the good part of the evening, but Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange were. They were interested in why I… look the way I look. Mrs. Lestrange had apparently heard a lot from Lord Nott about me, and it got her very curious about why I inherited Black bloodline talents when I shouldn’t. She speculated a lot of things.”

Anthony bristled. “She insinuated that your mother was unfaithful to your face?”

“She did. But you know… I had that thought too, but I decided that wasn’t very likely. I mean, I look like younger Regulus Black or Mrs. Lestrange. I wondered about it, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. And then Lord Nott pointed it out, and reminded me of something that he said, that looking at me, he would suspect a closer relation between me and my grandmother.” He paused for a while to sit more comfortably. “I know for a fact that my parents and Sirius used a ritual to name him my godfather, but they didn’t know much, if anything, about them. You know, there is always this paragraph in books, about family rituals that contains a warning about mistaking the godfather and the adoption rituals. It seemed possible that they mixed them up, but I had trouble believing they would be so irresponsible. And I didn’t want to discover if I was right either. That night, Mrs. Lestrange brought with her a papyrus with blood runes, and… I was right. They did something wrong that night. From what was discussed, my looks are result of one person performing the adoption ritual. The thing is, Mrs. Tonks was pretty sure that it was a ritual from a book, taken from the Black Library. It purged my magic from influence of lesser family…”

“… and since your mother doesn’t have family magic, the Black magic replaced her,” Michael said with wonder.

“Two times one fourth and a half, and officially three parents,” calculated quickly Terry. “And magically half and half?”

“Magically one fourth Potter and three fourth Black,” corrected him Hadrian. “And it would put me as next heir to inherit because Sirius is the eldest son of main branch. Walburgia Black is my grandmother.”

“Sweet Circle.” Anthony looked stunned. “What next?”

“They swore an oath to not reveal this information, so it would be my decision if and when I will do it officially at Gringotts.” That seemed to be really shocking for them but Hadrian supposed that few families were as untrusting and guarded, even towards each other, as Blacks.

Hadrian laid on his back, laying his head on Michael’s back. He stared on the ceiling.

“It’s just… weird. You are the first people I told. I haven’t said anything to Anne or Remus… or Sirius. I don’t know if I should because it could complicate things a lot. I don’t want this to end in the court where Walburgia would fight for my guardianship, because she would go absolutely mad if she found out Sirius had a child out there. She’s always nagging him about getting married and having children.”

“You have three parents and theoretically, two families have a claim on you, if it ever comes out,” summarized Anthony. “And people always wondered if the Potters and Sirius Black weren’t too close.”

“Gross,” murmured Hadrian wrinkling his nose in distaste. “It’s not something I ever want to imagine. The thing is, I haven’t really seen Sirius in nearly a year and I have never been that close to him. I know he loves me but he’s always doing something somewhere or being loud and noisy, which I can’t stand for a long period of time. He means well but he’s not cut out to be a parent. I was always closest with Remus and it feels wrong not to tell him.”

“Then tell him,” Michael said and wriggled a bit, which jostled Hadrian. “Move your head a bit to the left.”

Hadrian rolled his eyes but did as he was told.

“But what if he tells someone else?”

“Demand an oath?” proposed Terry. “Maybe he could be helpful? You know, to plan how to break the news to Sirius and if it’s worth it?” He paused for a while. “Does it make him your stepfather, if he was with your father for ten years or even longer?”

Hadrian snorted having not suspected that one. “I don’t need any more fathers at the moment. Besides that, Remus would be more like a second mother.”

“You told us he was the most sensible one from the bunch,” pointed out Anthony.

“I could destroy his relationship with my mother, James and Sirius. I still remember how defensive James got when Sirius said that I look like Regulus when he was younger.”

“But, wouldn’t that serve him right?” Anthony always had a mean streak, which Hadrian somewhat shared. He was not a very compassionate person and at times his Schadenfreude made him feel vindictive, but he didn’t exactly think that destroying James’ relationships with his friends would be serving him right. “I mean, you are not making up stories to be mean, you are actually informing them about their mistakes so they can realize what they have done. This ritual could have hurt you if it was badly performed. It’s not a joke. They’re adults and you shouldn't hide their mistakes from them in case it hurts their feelings.”

With this Hadrian could agree, but he still wasn’t sure.

“Remus has a depression disorder. Wouldn’t that make it worse?” he asked no one in particular.

“I doubt it,” Terry answered him after a few minutes of silence. “I don’t know much about depression, I’ll admit it, but you care about him and you aren’t aiming to hurt him. You want to tell him because you have a huge dilemma, he’s close to you and you think it’s fair. You aren’t blaming him, are you?”

“Of course not. I… I don’t feel wronged. It just complicates things.”

“Then tell him so, when you decide to tell him.”

Hadrian turned his head to look at him.

“What,” said Terry and rolled his eyes. “I can tell that you are a bit torn, but you’ll be telling him.”

“Let’s lift the mood!” Anthony announced suddenly. “You won’t believe what I heard from Morag, who heard from Daphne, who overheard it in Slytherins’ common room.”

“What, Parkinson found new target and moved on from Malfoy?” asked Michael. It was an old joke, that sooner Dumbledore would stop dressing in motley than Pansy Parkinson would give up being Lady Malfoy in the future. She was quite set on this, although the word was going around that Draco’s parents never considered her for the contract.

“No! Blaise Zabini is back.”

“Who?” Hadrian didn’t recognize the name at all. Was it someone in their year or older?

“Zabini’s heir. He’s in our year, but he got really sick during last Yule. His mother took him out of school and hired private healers. He’s all good right now and he passed the exams after last year, so they let him enter third year.”

“I don’t remember him.”

“I thought you wouldn’t, Hadrian. He hung out with Daphne and Tracey a lot but overall, he was a bit of a loner. He used to tutor Millicent, and he never come to the study group before. Daphne said she would invite him.”

“I wonder if it will work, Theodore doesn’t like him,” added Michael and rolled on his back. Hadrian lifted his head for that and then lied on his stomach heavily to show his displeasure. “I don’t know why but he had this ‘serves him right’ look when Tracey was telling us that Blaise wouldn’t be in Hogwarts for the second semester.”

“I remember now!” exclaimed Terry. “I thought someone said it during our studying, but I had no idea who.”

Hadrian didn’t have anything against Blaise Zabini. After all, he didn’t know him and if Daphne and Tracey were his friends, then he couldn’t be intolerable. And if Theodore didn’t like him? It would give Hadrian a chance to observe Nott and his behavior. He couldn’t get out of his head; the dark look on Theodore’s face in the ball. He thought of it so much, that in the end, he couldn’t decide if he had imagined it or not, so he settled with watching and noting everything that he could deem weird. 

*

Nothing prepared him for Blaise Zabini and his easy smiles, calm demeanor, voice which had begun to crack slightly or his strong and pronounced jawbone. He fit in with the group effortlessly and after two meetings, Hadrian felt like Blaise had studied with them from the beginning. He was good at Charms, even better with Herbology and Potions, and absolutely wonderful in Magical Theory. Hadrian found it delightful because, like Terry could never really discuss Arithmancy with either of them, Hadrian never really found someone as obsessed with Theory of Magic and Runes as him

Theodore was proficient in both and he liked to learn, but he never reached far for more. He hadn’t devoured tomes after tomes to want even more later because of pure fascination with the topic. Anthony was great in theory but only where it related to Transfiguration. The moment it became more abstract, his interest was gone. Terry liked to read up on both but he preferred numbers and Michael was hopeless when it came to anything with different languages or translations, so he hadn’t even considered taking on Runes, and theory quickly bored him when he much preferred action and logical correlation in brewing.

With Blaise, he could have actual debates. These were not debates anywhere near the level of his talk with Rabastan during the ball, but Blaise was not a professional and neither was he, so they could only speculate on the matters they didn’t know about. It was still nice.

As Michael told them, Theodore hadn’t liked Blaise at all. He tended to sit between them, which irritated Hadrian a lot sometimes when he couldn’t just look over Blaise’s shoulder, when he wanted to show him something, and Blaise had to pass him a book. Once or twice he would get snappy but it wasn’t anything that felt threatening. It provoked a bit of teasing from Michael, when they were alone in their dorms and sometimes a giggle from Daphne or Morag, and that was embarrassing. Blaise never showed he was bothered by Theodore and tended to ignore him most of the time, but sometimes, when Nott wasn’t looking, Blaise rolled his eyes or threw Daphne a look.

The first time Theodore had shown actual anger on his face was when Hadrian and Blaise came in to Ancient Runes class together a bit late because Professor Avery kept them few minutes longer in Theory of Magic, and due to the lack of free space, sat together in the back, still engaged in discussion. Theodore sat diagonally away from them and was turning his head a bit to their side to look straight at their professor, so Hadrian had a pretty good view of his face when Bathsheda Babbling announced that the desk where they had chosen to sit that day, would be their permanent seats until the end of the year, unless she says differently. She explained it with projects she was going to assign them to work on in pairs. In that moment, when it became clear that Hadrian and Blaise would be spending time together, the dark look emerged on Theodore’s face.

Hadrian didn’t know what to do about it. Theodore was harmless at this point, but it wasn’t promising when Hadrian thought about the future. It really reminded him of James, and the knowledge that Lord Nott could consider him a good marriage material, wasn’t helping with the discomfort. The information that he was actually Potter-Black would probably put him higher on the list, and he didn’t want to be put in a situation where he would have to reject Theodore officially.

Why hadn’t he noticed anything in Theodore before? He had to talk with Terry and maybe after that with Anthony and Michael. From all of them, Terry would be the least impulsive one, and was less likely to confront Theodore about anything. He wouldn’t trust Michael to not have a few words with him.

Despite the fact that Blaise was part of the problem, he was also a good distraction. Their personalities were similar, although Zabini’s seemed to be more confident and firmer. He liked complaining about the weather and not enough sunshine and enjoyed teasing Daphne and Tracey. His humor may have seemed biting, but he never crossed any line and was not malicious. Daphne once told him that Blaise showed his affection this way. That was why Hadrian never took the teasing about his height to heart and reciprocated with pointing out Zabini’s chaotic mess.

Blaise was probably the messiest person Hadrian had ever known, but his uniform was always clean, perfected and without one wrinkle. His books and quills though… They usually lied in complete disorder all around a desk or a table, only sometimes piled on one side. In Blaise’s bag everything was thrown in carelessly and Hadrian, on numerous occasions, had seen him stuff his notes into random books no matter on which subject. It was ridiculous, and Hadrian caught himself organizing their table once or twice almost automatically. The first time it happened, they were talking and Hadrian hadn’t noticed he arranged Blaise’s quills side by side from the biggest to the smallest, until Blaise reached out for one and discovered that it wasn’t in the place he laid it down. Hadrian could be eaten by his embarrassment at that moment, but Blaise laughed it off.

If Hadrian’s personal problems could end at this, it would have been wonderful. He still hadn’t told Remus anything, and it was well into November. He wanted to do it before Yule break, but every time he wanted to start the topic, the words didn’t seem to want to come out. He tried to reason with himself that Remus wouldn’t yell or be mad at him, but he still suspected that he hadn’t moved on from Sirius, and if they argued about it, they could become even more distant then now. He didn’t know how upset Sirius was about the breakup because he never wrote about it in his letters, which started arriving systematically again. Sirius wrote about France, a bit about his work, about his annoying neighbor and sent him sweets, but never mentioned anything important. Hadrian’s replies were just as meaningless. It was like someone had reminded Sirius to write, and he was doing it dutifully.

Remus and Hadrian took to taking strolls around the Black Lake once a week, if the weather was good. It was quite relaxing, because neither of them had a need to talk constantly and it was an opportunity to spend some time without Anthony, Terry, and Michael. He loved them, but no one could be around the same people nonstop.

They were away from the castle and students, no one could overhear them and they didn’t have places to be. It reminded Hadrian of the summers he spent with Remus, reading in the garden while the older wizard wrote his first book. They were relaxing, and those walks gave him the same feeling. It almost felt like he was about to taint it with this conversation, but this time he was determined. It was weighing him down, so he had to get this out of his chest.

“Remus?” he asked, when they were slowly walking on an overgrown path with a lake on their left and a forest wall on their right. Remus hummed, signaling that he was listening. “If I asked you for an oath to not tell anyone what I wanted to tell you, would you do it for me?”

Remus clearly didn’t expect that. “What?” he asked, looking straight at Hadrian.

“If I wanted to tell you something, but I would like an oath from you before that, would you take one?” Hadrian repeated calmly.

“Harry, oaths aren’t a joking matter.”

“I just want a simple oath, that you’ll keep what I would tell you only to yourself.”

“It’s not hypothetical, is it? You are not joking. Hadrian, if it’s something important or dangerous, then I can’t.”

“Andromeda swore one.” It wasn’t exactly fair play, but it could get Remus to agree. After all, he respected Andromeda a great deal and they were good friends. If she swore one and hadn’t deemed it too dangerous, then it would probably curb Remus’ concern a bit. “She swore not to reveal anything we talked about, unless I specifically tell her she can.”

Remus looked at him as if he still expected Hadrian to tell him it was just a joke and didn't really want any oath from him. He must not have seen what he wanted, because he sighed heavily. When he did that, he tended to look a lot older than he was, and incredibly tired. He didn’t have any gray hair yet, but Hadrian suspected that in the near future, he’ll be able to see silver in Remus’ light brown locks.

“I, Remus John Lupin, will not reveal any of Hadrian Castor Potter’s secrets, unless I am given direct permission. So mote it be.”

Hadrian hadn’t expected an oath broader than their talk, but he didn’t point it out to Remus. He was an adult, and if he wanted to swear he wouldn’t reveal any of Hadrian’s secrets, then that was clearly his intention. And if not… He was still an adult and somewhat of an expert in Defense with a halfway completed Mastery in the subject.

He felt a little guilty when he was omitting the truth a bit, leaving out the discovery of his parentage from Lord Nott, his dance with Rabastan; and instead telling Remus that Bellatrix’s interest came from a brief moment, when they had seen each other at the ball because Draco wanted to introduce him shortly to his parents. From the look on Remus face, he was right in doing that because even at the mention of being introduced to Malfoys, Remus had given him a warning about them.

He decided against mentioning Bellatrix Lestrange or Narcissa Malfoy too, and told Remus that they only talked about how he looked with Andromeda, which got her curious and they tested the theory.

He had to owl Andromeda and write to her what he told Remus, so their stories would match. He doubted she wanted to reveal to Remus, that the three Black sisters never stopped talking with each other and met from time to time. It would make him suspicious.

When he ended up retelling his theory and his conclusions, Remus was deathly pale and sitting on the large stone beside him, with clear disbelief on his face.

“It felt wrong to hide it from you and I really wanted your input on if and how to tell Sirius,” he said, ending his monologue. “I am not ready for anyone else to know. It would be better to wait until I have my O.W.L.s, so I will be more independent according to laws, and my voice will be heard.”

“During rituals like that there can be only parents and godparents present, because otherwise the magic can be tainted, so I had no idea they did… that. I remember for sure it was Andromeda’s book. I hadn’t suspected a thing. Well, you don’t look a lot like them, but enough and there is a strong resemblance to your grandmother…”

“It’s resemblance to Blacks in general. Sirius always told me that I was similar to Regulus and I have seen Bellatrix, so I can tell how alike we look. Do I need to tell him?”

“Do you want to?”

“I have no idea. Not now. I don’t even know how to tell him, nor do I know how he’s going to react.”

Remus looked very torn about the whole situation. They sat beside each other in silence and Hadrian looked at the calm waters of the lake. They were sitting on big stones which were half in the water and half on the small grassy beach. It was a nice spot. A bit far from the castle, but still behind wards. From this distance, he could see the tree under which students liked to sit by the lake during summer.

Hadrian mindlessly casted a warming charm over himself. It was chilly and he didn’t wish for a cold. Remus always had a much higher body temperature and often forgot that some people got cold easily or quicker than him. He looked briefly at the mountains. Their peaks were already snowed.

“It’s hard to speculate, I am afraid. I think he would still treat you like his godchild, James’ and Lily’s son. If the word got out...”

“I don’t plan on letting anyone know just yet,” he reminded Remus. “And what do you think?”

“You are the same kid I know from the birth, Harry. But now I know how you can be so intelligent and sneaky at the same time. Child of two Marauders and Lily.”

“Three Marauders, come on, you are like a step mum, Moony,” teased Hadrian with a smile, and Remus actually laughed. “Let’s say it was a joint effort.”

*

Hadrian wasn’t sure if Snape told his mother about the ball or not. What he was sure about, was that Snape had been observing him like a hawk. He felt his heavy gaze on himself during meals no matter with who he was sitting, during Potions which even Michael noticed, once in the hallway when he was leaving a classroom with Blaise. Three or four times, Hadrian saw him in the library which was unusual, and Tracey spotted Snape looking at them too.

“What does he want from you?” asked Daphne, when they were sitting at their table after Potions.

“I don’t know. He’s acting this way since the ball, where he saw me dancing,” admitted Hadrian. “I thought he would write to my mother straight away.”

“Why would he owl your mother?” asked Draco, who apparently didn’t understand the last chapter in Charms, so he joined in under the pretense of revising it because he was too proud to admit it.

“They’re best friends since they were around seven,” Hadrian informed him and nearly rolled his eyes at their surprised expressions. “It’s not that shocking you know? He and father hate each other, so mother meets with Snape separately, but they are still talking. They did the same Mastery together after all.”

“Did you know that Hadrian’s mother told him to treat Snape like a _prickly cactus_?” said Michael with a big grin, and snorted when Draco’s jaw dropped a bit and girls busted into laughter.

“I won’t be able to get it out of my head now,” exclaimed Morag between giggles. “I hope I won’t start laughing when I will see him in Potions. Can you imagine? Him being all sour and grumpy, all _prickly_.”

“You. Are. Evil,” Daphne told her, trying to keep straight face.

Hadrian had to thank Michael for helping him distract everyone from why Snape would write to his mother about the Goldstein’s ball. He didn't quite want to remind everyone that James and Lily Potter were deeply convinced that some pureblood wizards and witches were evil embodied, and that the Lestrange family definitely fit into the definition of evil. Until now, they had managed to avoid talking about their families being in complete opposition to each other when it came to politics. It wasn't something they could avoid all the time, but Hadrian wasn't the least bit eager to emphasize how broken up his family was. Of course, most of them were probably aware, that Hadrian didn't have the best of contacts with them, but there was a difference between guessing or speculating, and talking about it openly. Nor was he naive enough to think that such information wouldn’t be passed on.

He didn't feel like confronting Snape in the slightest, so he tried his best to ignore the looks. That didn't change the fact that it was extremely annoying.

“Hadrian, are you with us?” It was Anthony who was asking, and Hadrian blinked, staring at the notes he was writing when he drifted off. His hand was perfectly still in the middle of the word. What was he doing? His arm was gently shook. “Terry, take the quill from him, so he won’t destroy his notes.

“Do we need go to someone?” That was… Draco? Hadrian tried to focus as Terry took the quill from him gently.

“It’s longer than usual and he’s still… not there. Go to your classes, we are going to sit with him until he’s back.”

A wave of shame hit him hard. Was he making a scene in the library? Was he in the library? Everything about reality seemed to escape his grasp. He was there and at the same time he wasn’t. His body seemed foreign, or more like temporary shell. He didn’t feel scared or wrong in any way, but he was aware it wasn’t normal or right. He felt… isolated. Detached. Like an observer.

“It’s fine, it happens, Draco. That’s partly why someone is always near him. He almost fell down the stairs once. Sometimes he is just deep in his thoughts, and doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings, and sometimes it ends up that way. It always passes. You can go with everyone; you don’t have to stay with us.”

“It just… reminds me of uncle Regulus. You know, Regulus Black. He too has moments like that, although it’s much easier to get his attention back. I asked mother once as a child, why he is that way, because he just paused in the middle of the talk about work, drifted away, and when they got his attention, he had whole plan formulated. She said that’s family curse. I’m not stupid, I know he’s at least part Black, so –”

Hadrian blinked again, and tried to move. The conversation no longer seemed to cut off at some parts and he was able to focus on the words enough to follow it. Family curse. Black family curse. Could it become more complicated? All he ever wanted was a calm life. Potter’s luck was truly awful.

“Hadrian?”

“Gimme a moment,” he murmured, trying to get a hold of himself. It was a success of its own that he got his mouth to cooperate with his brain. “It’s easier when you talk to me, but I don’t hear everything,” Hadrian told them slowly after few minutes. He felt tense and the back of his neck hurt from his position. He tried to stretch a bit. “I heard the part about a family curse and you staying with me but the rest is… cut off?”

“You felt like you were there but not connected to reality again? You said you had this feeling sometimes.”

“That was it for last… ten minutes or more? I can’t tell.”

It was weird to discuss it in front of Draco. What if he told someone Hadrian had no wish to be insulted or teased about this.

“Do you want me to contact mother about it? She will know more than I,” he offered in the end. Hadrian wouldn’t mind knowing more, but on the other side, he wasn’t so sure about it. He felt utterly hopeless every time he had to engage an adult he barely knew into his personal life. Lord Goldstein and Mr. Boot were a necessity, Andromeda pushed him a bit into telling her and Remus knew a heavily edited version. Getting help from Narcissa Malfoy was too much at this point.

“Thank you but I think I’ll ask Sirius first,” he answered, although the Sirius part was a complete bullshit. “If he doesn’t know, I’ll get back to you.”

“Will you really ask him about it?” asked Michael, when they were back in their dorms. The common room was too loud and crowded. Hadrian had no idea who thought that a chess competition would be wonderful idea when it came to Ravenclaws. They were a vicious bunch when it came to competitions, and sometimes it could get really heated.

“I won’t. I’ll write to Andromeda instead, but I have no idea if Draco is aware that his mother still talks with his disowned aunt. If doubt that she won’t know anything about it but if it’s not enough, I am sure she’ll ask Lady Malfoy herself.”

“It’s a good idea,” agreed Anthony. “You know that we don’t mind you being… you? With this curse and all? I just worry sometimes that you’ll break your leg or something.”

“Just like we don’t mind him being the gossip king,” joined in Michael.

“Or like we don’t mind that Michael is a chatterbox,” Terry said teasingly.

“Or like…” Michael furrowed his brows. “Oh, shut it. You don’t have any really distinctive traits… or annoying ones. Or like we don’t mind that you are a goody two shoes.”

“Thank you for the complement. I strive for perfection,” answered him Terry fatly.

“You aren’t perfect. You drool in your sleep and –” Hadrian announced, and Terry almost threw himself at him, which cut him off. He batted of Terry’s arm, which shot to cover his mouth. “I know all your dirty secrets!” But then Terry started tickling him and Hadrian busted into loud laughter.

It soon became a tickling war, and then Hadrian of course had to fall off the bed they were sitting on. He was breathing heavily, but he felt better than before. Sometimes it scared him how much he needed the reassurance that everything was fine. He would be lost without them. Completely lost, miserable and all alone. He was so grateful that Mother Magic let them meet on the Hogwarts Express the first day, and then be sorted into the same house.

Snape confronted him right before Yule that year. Hadrian had nearly stopped caring about Snape observing him all the time, although his friends sometimes still pointed out when their professor was too obvious. He behaved as always and rarely changed his routine. He spent his days with Anthony, Terry, and Michael, often with some Slytherin acquaintance and systematically with some regulars in the study group. They had been learning, practicing, and playing around. Sometimes, they would end up confronting Ronald Weasley. Draco always jumped in and escalated everything, which quickly got embarrassing and more often than not, resulted in loss of points between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and sometimes Ravenclaw. Malfoy used defending Hadrian as a never-ending excuse to insult or hex Weasley, never paying too much attention to Hadrian telling him that it was a bit insulting to his competence. It had one good point though, it took the attention away from Hadrian quite efficiently.

“Potter, stay after the class for a moment.”

It wasn’t a request.

Hadrian couldn’t help but create in his mind, possible scenarios of how the conversation might turn out. He doubted that Snape would surprise him with anything unexpected. He mentally prepared himself for the condescending tone and insults thrown his way. If Snape thought he was right, and Hadrian didn’t agree, there ought to be some. Probably related to James and Hadrian’s intelligence. Maybe something about him being a child and adults knowing better, or his arrogance or negligence to fulfill expectations. It seemed to be a pretty standard repertoire from what Hadrian heard from the older years. Being Lily’s son wouldn’t give him better treatment.

He exchanged looks with Terry and Anthony, who were packing their books and equipment into their bags at the desk in front of Michael’s and his.

“We’ll wait for you,” whispered Michael, and Hadrian nodded. It was a comforting thought that they are going to be in the corridor.

In the dark dungeon, Snape looked like a vampire or some warlock from a muggle fantasy novel. Or a bat, like students often joked, but bats were relatively harmless animals if they didn’t transmit viruses or bacteria.

“Do you ever go somewhere without your clique, Potter?”

Hadrian wondered if he should answer that question, but it was clearly a rhetorical one. Despite it, the unpleasant tone provoked a cheek.

“Is something wrong, sir?”

“Is something wrong, he asks,” ridiculed Snape. “Of course, you dimwit, something is not right. Care to explain your stunt at the Goldstein ball? How did you even get there? Your little bodyguards smuggled you in? What possessed you to dance with Rabastan Lestrange, a man older to you by twenty years, and then parade around with Nott and Malfoy.”

Calm, he thought to himself. Hadrian had to keep calm because between the two of them, it was Snape who had attitude problems.

“Theodore and Draco are my good colleagues, sir. We study together at the library with larger groups,” he began slowly. “I spend half of the summer with Anthony’s family, so my presence was expected, sir.”

“What was going through your brain when you agreed to this dance. It was scandalous at best. You are thirteen, a child. Do you even know who that man was and what he does? You are playing with dangerous people, stupid child. Protected and coddled all your life, no wonder you don’t have any instincts! What would your mother say, if she knew who you are associating yourself with? Do you think you know better? Cease this idiocy.”

“Refusing that dance, when Mr. Lestrange was proper and kind would have been rude,” told Hadrian, although he should just let Snape end his chastising, get out of his classroom and go his own way. “He was telling me about his mastery in Theory of Magic and we only talked about it. Everyone saw, and nothing else happened, sir.” That last sir was added almost as an afterthought, but without a clear pause.

This unleashed the next couple of insults about his intelligence and ability to assess danger, people he shouldn’t be around and something about not steering into the wrong crowd. Snape again ordered him to cease his idiocy and then to get out, which Hadrian gladly did. He didn't have the slightest intention of doing anything that Snape had told him to do. He only hoped that ignoring the talk wouldn’t lead to another, or worse, a letter from his mother. He couldn’t really work around the last one since Snape witnessed the ball, but he could definitely sit through some insults again. Snape never scared him, and he wasn’t stupid to antagonize him or insult back. In the end, Snape hadn’t known him at all. They only talked two or three times outside of the classroom. He was an adult with a vendetta against James Potter, which Hadrian honestly could understand. What Hadrian didn’t get, was why he treated him and all of his siblings like a disease – or at least him and Anne, because Charles was a menace similar to their father.

What was with his warnings towards his friends? Was Snape involved in Dumbledore’s plans and secret group? It wasn’t impossible. Hadrian had heard from Draco, that despite Snape being his godfather, his visits to the Manor were getting rarer and rarer. Was he distancing himself?

What was going on? The only chance of getting information, was guilt tripping Remus into telling him something or Anemone listening in to the meetings, if any take place at the Potter’s Cottage again. But Anemone was better off with Andromeda than all alone in the house. Andromeda knew nothing but… Nymphadora? From what Hadrian knew, she was a bit naïve, so maybe she would tell Anne something even if by accident. The next option would be his Slytherin friends because if anything was stirring up, they ought to overhear at least a part of a conversation. The question was, whether they would tell him. At the end of the day, they didn’t have to, and loyalty to their families could be a big factor in staying silent about their private business.

Of course, he could forget about his curiosity, ignore the whole thing and go his own way, but he had a feeling that what was happening was very important. Not to mention, it was good to be informed. If the current political situation was about to turn more hostile, he needed to know how to stay in more or less neutral company or at least away from Dumbledore’s crowd, because nothing he’s been preaching sounded like Hadrian’s opinions or beliefs. Hadrian doubted that Dumbledore will go public with anything. He probably would stay in the shadows, which was a good tactic on its own. So, the battlefield would be… The Wizengamot? The factions at this moment were quite stable – the traditional and neutral ones, almost equal in number and still a bigger threat to Dumbledore’s cause than the Headmaster would probably like.

Hadrian hadn’t cared that much about politics to this point. He didn’t have any really strong beliefs as long as he was able to study what he wanted, so it irked him that Dumbledore and a lot of light wizards were trying to make some parts of Magic illegal or strictly regulated. He didn’t believe in blood purity either. It would be dumb since he was a half-blood himself.

Hadrian didn’t care, but his family was getting involved because the Potters were firmly behind Dumbledore’s back. If he dared to think about the Blacks as his family, they were also set in their ways but on the opposite side. If he didn’t want to get roped into this, he would have to probably either marry himself off to some neutral family or get himself disowned by both. He shuddered. Hadrian really didn’t want to think about both solutions that came to his mind.

“What did he want from you?” asked Anthony, when Hadrian joined them on the stairs. It was their last class for that day, so they weren’t in a hurry.

“Just insult my intelligence and call me an arrogant child because I apparently know better than adults like my mother, and associate myself with wrong side,” summarized Hadrian as they left the dungeons.

They were alone in the corridor on the first floor but Hadrian casted spell to grant them privacy and block unwanted listeners anyway.

“It’s getting boring but also… why would he warn me? I was also told the same before summer. I don’t know if something is happening for real or if just some people’s obsession has gathered a fan club,” he told them. “I have had enough of it, but we will need to know if the atmosphere is going to be less pleasant.”

“And how do you plan to get to know anything?” asked Terry curiously.

“Well, I know for sure that my parents are involved, and I have few ideas, but none of them sound doable and –” he paused suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

“I did, what was it?” Michael looked around but no one was there. “It ought to be around the corner.”

“It sounded like a muffled scream,” said Anthony, and Terry nodded.

“Leave us alone!” That they heard loud and clear.

They didn’t need any words to be exchanged between them to know that they were going to investigate and see what was happening. Hadrian hadn’t taken down the spell, so no one could hear their footsteps as they hurried to the corner.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when he saw Charles, McLaggen and some other older Gryffindor. He knew McLaggen from this one birthday party in Charles’ first year their parents had thrown for him at the Cottage. He was a mean git and had made Anemone cry.

What they were doing almost made him sick. Two Slytherin boys and one girl were standing with their backs to the wall. One of the boys was holding his mouth, as if something had happened to it, and the second one had a disproportionately large left ear. The girl was familiar, Astoria Greengrass his mind supplied, and she had a weak protego up but Hadrian could see that it was about to shatter.

“What are you doing, Charles? Three fifth years terrorizing second year students?” he asked loudly, and he could swear that Greengrass seemed to be relieved that they were there.

“That’s Gryffindor bravery?” Anthony sneered at older students. “What they did to you, bump into you in the hallway?”

“Get lost,” answered Charles, not even looking at them. “Someone has to teach these Slytherins not to talk back.”

“Yeah, run along nerds. This is our business.” McLaggen looked so sure of himself that Hadrian really wanted to curse him with something.

“I don’t think we will.” From the look of it, Michael had similar urges.

“Astoria come here. All of you,” Hadrian said to Greengrass and her company, making Charles finally turn to him with surprise written on his face. He casted a powerful _protego_ when they rushed to him and the third Gryffindor and McLaggen threw some jinxes to stop them.

“It’s none of your business, Hadrian,” Charles said finally through clenched teeth.

“We were just going to meet Yaxley’s cousin from Hufflepuff and I told Yaxley and Shafiq that you were Potter’s brother. They saw us looking and he –” She pointed at McLaggen. “– yelled at us to get lost, and Shafiq told him that we weren’t doing anything wrong. So, he –” She pointed at the third Gryffindor. “– hexed Shafiq, and his ear got huge, and then that one who yelled hexed Yaxley too and they started laughing. When I told him to leave us alone, they called me an inbred chit,” Astoria recalled quickly with a wobbly voice from behind him.

“Bullying is my business when I see it. And that was bullying. You are a bully Charles, face it.” It was something that Hadrian had wanted to tell Charles to his face, but never got into it. It was really satisfying to say that loud and clear.

His brother’s face got red, although Hadrian had no idea if it was shame or fury. Knowing him, it was the latter because he was the type to view it as public humiliation and think about revenge. Charles was prideful. Too prideful to let it go.

“Says the attention seeking liar,” Charles spat at him. Hadrian was called worse, but it still hurt a bit, especially when it came from his brother.

“Do you have something else to say? I am going to report it to the Slytherin prefect anyway.” Hadrian tried to sound as bored and unbothered as he could, and he did a fairly good job at that. “Professor McGonagall would want to hear it too, I am sure.”

“You fucking squealer!” McLaggen was almost instantly on Anthony’s wandpoint.

“Do you have anything clever to say or bullying younger kids is only thing that you can do?” Anthony asked, and Hadrian had no doubt that his patience was had reached its end.

Hadrian took a chance to take a quick look at the younger Slytherins. One of the boys, Yaxley was whimpering quietly, and his eyes were brimming with tears when his front teeth grew so much that they couldn’t fit inside of his mouth. He was terrified from the look of it. Terry started with _finite,_ but it didn’t do much. The boy’s teeth stopped growing but they weren’t getting any smaller. Same with Shafiq’s ear.

“I am able to send you to the Hospital Wing as well, Moore has done it before for less,” threatened McLaggen, and Hadrian, just from his aggravated tone, knew that spells were going to be exchanged.

Charles lifted his wand, and the newly named Moore did the same. Michael cast a _protego_ few second before the first spell hit it. It wasn’t a nice one either. Hadrian felt disgusted that his own brother had casted at him a spell that would have gotten him covered in painful boils from the look of it.

This stripped him of any qualms about repaying him with an overpowered _levicoprius_ , which took them by surprise just as Michael and Anthony’s _expelliarmus_ did. Upside down or not, they could have still casted spells, if they had their wands. Moore had dropped his on the ground making it easier to disarm them. They probably weren't expecting Hadrian to know a jinx like that, which was the cause of their defeat.

“Let us down!” McLaggen shouted.

“Why should he?” drawled Michael as he dropped Charles and McLaggen’s wands to the ground carelessly. “So, you can throw more of hexes that cause boils in our direction?”

Maybe they shouldn’t have done it, but Anthony had jinxed Moore and McLaggen with a _silencio_ after they began to yell insults at them. That way Charles, who was clearly fuming and wouldn’t be caught screaming for help anytime soon, was the only one able to yell for anyone who could get them down.

While they were escorting Greengrass, Yaxley and Shafiq to the infirmary, Hadrian almost felt like some kind of justice had been delivered for all of the years Charles left victims of his pranks in the same situation. Of course, there was also a small voice of reason that didn’t let him forget that there probably will be some hexes sent his way soon.

“Do you want us to wait with you?” Terry asked Astoria when Madame Pomfrey fussed around her year mates. She had taken them behind hospital screens and told them that it wouldn’t take long.

Greengrass was a bit shaken and she still looked like she was about to cry. Pomfrey had offered her calming draught but she had declined, saying it always made her sleepy.

“If it won’t be a problem,” she said in small voice.

What had possessed Charles to torment second years like that, Hadrian had no idea. What would he get from that? Some sort of power over them? Bragging rights? Respect of his equally awful friends?

“It’s not. We could walk you back too. Daphne and Theodore told us we can visit them any time we want to anyway,” he told her with ease.

“Hadrian always told them that he isn’t going to walk to the other side of the castle and an awful lot of stairs, just to visit, so you can be proud of yourself, as now he doesn’t have an excuse.” Michael’s well-timed teasing lifted the mood, and Astoria smiled.

“I know, Daphne always says that they would have to carry him over for him to agree or that he’s so skinny it’s no wonder he has the worst endurance ever.”

“Laugh it up, why don’t you five long sets of stairs exhaust me, big deal.” Hadrian wouldn’t admit to himself that he pouted at that moment.

“Hadrian, walking to our dorms from the common room exhausts you,” stated Terry, and Hadrian playfully pushed his arm.

Anthony and Michael laughed, and Astoria giggled, which made Hadrian fight his urge to smile. He knew he had poor endurance and got tired easily, but he didn’t care about it all that much. As if Terry was any better when it came to physical activity. Michael sometimes flew with Anthony on the Quidditch pitch when they were watching them from the stands.

Yaxley and Shafiq returned to them a few minutes later without any parts of their bodies enlarged, introduced themselves as Robert and Oman, and thanked them officially. Hadrian could see their embarrassment, so he just told them to not worry about it.

They had no idea where the Slytherin dorms were exactly, so they let the Slytherins guide the way. The dungeons weren’t a surprise, but how close the dorms were to the potion’s classroom was. Why did the Ravenclaws have to be so far from everything? Hadrian heard that the Hufflepuffs were near the kitchens and Gryffindors could get to the grand staircase quicker than anyone else. Did they want to make them walk around a bit on purpose?

Hadrian saw the door in the wall on a dead-end corridor, quicker than he was informed about their existence when some older Slytherin was exiting through it.

“Could you please let me know if Daphne Greengrass is in the common room?” asked Hadrian politely before he could be questioned why he was here. He quickly noticed a badge of a perfect. It was Carrow.

It took one look at the red eyed Astoria, and the prefect returned inside for a quick while.

“She is. With Nott, Davis, and Malfoy. Go in, I don’t have time for it.”

So, in they went, and Astoria quickly rushed up to Daphne to tell her what had happened.

The Slytherin common room was a long and low room. The walls were made from a rough stone like the round ceiling. The greenish lamps were hanging from chains and seemed a bit useless because they didn’t give out a lot of light. The dorms were partly underwater, so, anyone could see the lake through the windows. Hadrian wondered if they ever saw merpeople. The gillyweeds and fishes were probably swimming by on daily basis.

A fire was crackling under a carved mantelpiece ahead of them. There were three or four plush sofas, a lot of comfortable looking armchairs and few chairs by the long table. Slytherins didn’t have a library in their common room but they had chess sets and a wireless laying on the table. Were they for anyone to use?

Beside Daphne, Theodore, Tracey and Draco, Hadrian could see multiple others who listened in as Astoria spoke quickly. They didn’t even reach the sofas occupied by them when she was done speaking.

“Your brother is really a prick,” said Malfoy and made a place for him, which Hadrian took without word. The Slytherin common room was surprisingly warm. “And his mates are uncouth cretins.”

“Tell me something I haven’t figured out,” told him Hadrian. “And I am never coming back here. Do you know how many sets of stairs I had to go down? Why don’t you climb to our common room? It doesn’t even have a proper password,” he added dramatically. Tracey snickered.

“He got tired halfway through, I thought I would have to carry him,” joined in Michael, who sat on his left. Anthony and Terry sat on the loveseat to his right.

“Astoria, what did you tell them?” asked Daphne, and her sister only looked up at her innocently, which sparked laughter from everyone.

“On the serious note, are you alright?” inquired Theodore, looking at Hadrian as if he searching for injuries. “They didn’t follow you?”

“Hadrian left them hanging by their legs upside down in that corridor,” told them Michael. “And Anthony silenced Moore and McLaggen. It was hilarious to watch.”

Hilarious or not, Hadrian would prefer not having to do that at all.

“Snape warned me against you,” he murmured lowly to Draco, when the conversation spiked up and Daphne stared bickering with Anthony. “He told me to wait after class and told me to stay away from you lot. Do you know why?”

“I might,” admitted Draco just as quietly. “They plan on getting majority.”

“The same here.”

“But are planning on tightening the Statute. Officially.”

Hadrian hummed. That would be a proof of nefarious intents for Dumbledore. They always voted for larger spectrum of integration.

“And changing curriculum,” added Draco.

Now that would be interesting. During his campaign, Riddle spoke about plans of integrating Muggleborns into their world better by offering classes about wizarding traditions and culture. The traditionalists always wanted Ritual Magic back in Hogwarts. Magical Theory was reinstated after a long battle in Wizengamot because Dumbledore stood firmly behind his conviction that the classes should only be decided by the Headmaster. Hadrian supposed that replacing Binns with someone more competent and _alive_ , would be nice too.

But that wouldn’t send Snape to Dumbledore’s side so easily. There had to be something more. Maybe that prophecy? Maybe that was a deciding factor? But Snape wasn’t that stupid to believe it was true just because Dumbledore said so, right? Is Snape even on Dumbledore’s side?

Hadrian didn’t like this at all.

“Do you know why my mother told me to look out for you?”

Hadrian didn’t like that question either.

“I do but… It’s not the time yet.”

This time Draco hummed. What the world had come to? Him getting along, even for a while, with a Malfoy, with Lady Malfoy telling his son to look out for him? He only hoped that neither Narcissa Malfoy nor Bellatrix Lestrange would care enough to drop hints or ask more people to do things like that. The oath technically hadn’t forbidden this.


	5. Aut neca aut necare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to PhoenixQuake for being a beta-reader for this chapter! 
> 
> If this time, something has escaped me, or my beta-reader, I'll be extremely pleased if you'll point it out in the commentary.  
> Comments feed my creativity and help me improve! 
> 
> FAIR WARNING: At the end of this chapter, there is a description of an unsucesfull asault.

“Do you ever wonder why Nott hates me?” asked Blaise on a rare occasion they were alone in the library. Professor Calisto Avery had assigned them an essay, and let them leave after ten minutes because there was some sort of an emergency. That caused a one and half an hour gap in their schedule, so they decided to start writing it.

Theory of Magic was a small class. Barely five students decided to take it, and Hadrian was the only one from his Ravenclaw friends. Besides him and Blaise, there was Granger, along with Smith and Abbott from Hufflepuff. The unpopularity was unfortunate but the small number of students allowed them to have full blown debates or delve into interesting projects under the watchful eye of Professor Avery, because she had more time for each of them. It was a difficult class but Hadrian adored it.

“No, not particularly,” he answered, trying to write down what he needed to mention in his essay as bullet points. He didn’t need to know why, especially when he saw nothing wrong with Blaise, and was still quite cross with Theodore after discovering his possessive streak, which made him uneasy. After some observation, he had a very bad feeling about it, even though Theodore hadn’t done anything. “Why are you asking?”

“Aren’t you curious?”

Hadrian paused for a moment and put down his quill. When he looked up from his notes, Blaise was looking at him, resting his head on his arms. His thick curls were getting longer and Hadrian liked it.

“Well, a bit? Before you joined our study group, I had heard that Theodore didn’t like you, so I wondered why, but you fit well with us, so it’s not like it matters? It’s between you and Theodore, Blaise,” Hadrian answered plainly. “I don’t need to know. That’s Anthony.”

Blaise laughed warmly. His voice got lower recently, and was cracking sometimes, but Blaise was never embarrassed by it, which Hadrian envied. Zabini was confident and completely at ease with himself or at least he posed himself like he was.

“You are one of few people that aren’t afraid or suspicious of me,” Blaise confessed. “It’s nice.”

“Should I?” Was there something he didn’t know? He could be quite oblivious to the world or other people if something didn’t concern him directly.

“No but people hear _rumors_ about my mother, and then became watchful.”

“What rumors?”

Blaise stared at him in surprise, as if it was last thing he expected from Hadrian. There was a bit of wariness in his eyes. Did he think that telling him would make Hadrian run? Hadrian hadn’t run when the discovered books about blood magic in Goldstein’s library, and that was a widely frowned upon branch of magic. Sometimes those books were forbidden to be sold in bookshops. Hadrian hadn’t run when Michael admitted that his family sympathized with Grindelwald and did things in his name either.

“I… You really haven’t heard anything?” Hadrian’s look must have told Blaise that he really didn’t have a faintest idea what anyone could be speaking about his mother. Suddenly he became tense and his expression transformed into something more neutral. “They call her the Black Widow, because she had eight husbands and each of them died.”

It was like Blaise expected him to bolt from his seat, run away right to the Ravenclaw tower, and then never speak to him again. And maybe Hadrian should feel terrified or at least be uneasy but he couldn’t force himself to do that. There was nothing of the sort going through his mind. Blaise was Blaise and what his mother did, didn’t concerned Hadrian in any way.

“Well… I am an attention seeking liar and crazy enough to see things, so I guess if we care about rumors, you shouldn’t be sitting here,” he answered carefully. “And my brother has a vendetta against me, so you are in danger of being stupidly pranked.”

Hadrian avoided Charles stubbornly, keeping an eye on where his brother might have been. It wasn’t like they spent time in the same parts of the castle or he was walking alone through the corridors but there was still a chance that Charles would finally grow tired of throwing him murderous looks. He did that a lot during a few weeks after the incident with Slytherins, and Hadrian could tell he was still fuming inside. McLaggen and Moore weren’t any better but they never tried to jinx or hex him back again.

Maybe it was because Hadrian reported everything to Percy, who as a Head Boy took off points and according to Padma’s sister Parvati, berated them in front of everyone in the common room which added to the humiliation. Hadrian admitted to leaving them hanging upside down, which would have guaranteed him a loss of points if he went to McGonagall but Percy was completely aware of how Charles and his friends could get. Maybe he even shared with Hadrian the weird sense of justice, because he hadn’t said a word about it. Percival Weasley was vindictive and had a mean streak a mile wide, even if he was mostly passive.

“You do look like you are watching something that no one can see sometimes,” admitted Blaise but there wasn’t any mean intent behind it. Blaise was stating a fact.

“I suppose I am. I am magic sensitive. I can see it or smell it, and sometimes watching it is helpful when it comes to spells or simply relaxing.” Hadrian wasn’t sure how many people in Hogwarts apart from Terry, Anthony, and Michael knew about his talents. Hadrian never straightforwardly told anyone else. There was Theodore who knew, and they weren’t very careful around their year mates from Ravenclaw to prevent them from knowing.

“Oh, my mother can see it too. My grandmother could hear it, and I can smell it.” That wasn’t what Hadrian was expecting at all. He had never been able to compare experiences. Did Lady Zabini possess some knowledge about their shared ability? Some books he wasn’t able to get his hands on? It was very tempting to ask but on the other side, his friendship with Blaise was still new, and he felt embarrassed even thinking about asking. “You really don't care?”

“No, I don’t.” Hadrian should have been thankful for bringing back the topic of Blaise’s mother. “It’s nothing of my concern. You and your family never done me any wrong.”

“You are a marvel, Hadrian.”

Hadrian couldn’t control the heat flooding his face, and Blaise laughed.

“That blush is honestly adorable.”

“Stop it.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

“I’d appreciate it if you do. We should be finishing here; I don’t want to be late for Runes.”

Blaise smiled at him. Hadrian was perfectly aware that his ungraceful attempt at changing the topic was noticeable like a Hippogriff out in the open, but he was too flustered to think about something else. They had a half an hour to the break and then next fifteen minutes to get into the classroom.

“Right,” he drawled doing a pretty good imitation of Snape. “Are you finished planning your essay?” Blaise frowned and leaned forward to look at Hadrian’s parchment. “How did you pick the topic so easily? I still can’t decide.”

“I just picked something I read and was curious about recently. It’s just fascinating, and I… I would love to have mastery in it.”

“It’s difficult mastery to have. I thought about one in Runes but Arithmancy sounds good too.”

“Why not both? I mean, I plan on getting mastery in Runes too. I am interested in researching common ground between Magic Theory and Runes.”

“I thought there were none?” Blaise frowned collecting his notes and quills from the table. “I vaguely remember reading that there were none because Ancient Runes are neither a focus point for magic nor a spell.”

“That’s what is written,” Hadrian agreed packing his belongings to his bag as well. “But I want to research it anyway by myself. Maybe I will find something, maybe I won’t but it’s interesting. Anyway, my goal is to become a warder or a curse breaker.”

“Strangely enough, I can’t see you being anything else.”

They got up and left their table. The library was quiet and deserted at this hour. Almost everyone had classes, and only a few of seventh years were sitting in small group by the Astronomy section.

Their footsteps were echoing in the empty corridors. It took some time for it to become normal and not eerie. The first years often looked frightened by walking from class to class. Hogwarts was dark on the inside and strategically placed torches gave only certain amount of light. The ever-watching portraits, muttering to themselves or each other, sometimes yelling at students or cursing them out, weren’t that helpful in easing their worries either.

At least Hadrian could look at the magic in the walls or in the floor to calm himself. He did that a lot in last few weeks in case Charles decided to get revenge somehow by placing a prank in the corridor, which made his eyes hurt a bit from multitude of colors and formations. They were truly beautiful and Hadrian could understand how people said that Hogwarts lives because the castle was alive with magic, which sometimes seemed to have a certain level of sentience. It wouldn’t surprise him.

They weren’t rushing, so by the time they arrived, a lot of students were already in the class. Care for Magical Creatures had ended quicker too apparently and some had a free period. Like Theodore, who was looking at Hadrian with burning intensity or at least Hadrian thought so until they came closer. Theodore was looking at Hadrian’s hand on Blaise’s arm with so much anger it was actually worrying because if he had a wand in his hands, Hadrian would expect to see curses flying their way. At this point Hadrian had a good idea why Theodore was so infuriated but jealousy wasn’t an explanation for something that predicted violence or caused red flags to go off. Even if Nott was infatuated with him, Hadrian wasn’t a possession and Theodore seemed angry if there was anyone paying attention to him who wasn’t a betrothed, female or a previously known friend. Blaise checked out all of these things and Theodore seemed to be offended with his mere presence in close proximity to Hadrian. As it seemed, it was only worse if they were touching.

Hadrian couldn’t understand it. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. Him being led on someone’s arm wasn’t an unusual occurrence, especially if he got lost in his mind again. In this case he had no memory from how he made it three floors down, so everyone should be glad that Blaise led him through the stairs and he hadn’t end up falling down.

“Professor Avery dismissed you earlier?” asked Anthony, who sat with Theodore. Michael and Terry were seated right behind them, to the right of Hadrian’s desk.

“She let us go after ten minutes and we were assigned an essay which will be the beginning of our project that’s going to determine our grade,” explained Hadrian. “So, we started working on it in the library.” There it was again. That look in Theodore’s eyes that made him appear to be malevolent or violent. If Hadrian were alone with him in that moment and Theodore had walked up to him, Hadrian would have been expecting a blow. Maybe he projected it too much, but it really brought up memories of James waiting for them to be away from the public, so he could yell or berate him.

“Why didn’t you come and find any of us?” Theodore asked, and Anthony looked at him, surprised.

“He was with Blaise, I mean, I wouldn’t search the castle for you lot either if I had only a class hour and was with someone I know,” Anthony said and shrugged when Michael looked from Theodore to him questioningly. Hadrian would have to talk with them about it finally but it could wait.

He sat down and unpacked his ink, quills and parchment, mechanically arranging them at right angles. After the fifth quill laid parallel to the rest, he realized that it wasn’t his and looked up at Blaise, irritated.

“What, it’s cute, you didn’t even realize it was my quill. Do you want to arrange the rest?” he teased.

“Well, someone has to keep you in line with your chaotic messiness,” Hadrian shot back, almost without thinking and Blaise laughed. It was such a nice laugh.

He would have been more disturbed with his thoughts if Professor Babbling hadn’t come in. She was always so energetic and smiley, which could be deceiving because she was the strictest and the most hard-to-please teacher in Hogwarts. She graded essays and exams on the curve, and they weren’t only asked to answer the questions based on the textbook but to answer the questions based outside the textbook. It made the less ambitious people stay away from Ancient Runes class and flock to Divination or Care of Magical Creatures.

Hadrian briefly debated with himself on taking Care of Magical Creatures, but he was never keen on large animals like hippogriffs and was easily grossed out by some of Hagrid’s creations. He preferred to admire magical beings from afar. Adding to that, Magical Theory and Ancient Runes were a must, and Arithmancy was a base to every experimental branch of magic. His friends mostly opted for Care instead of Theory, which wasn’t bad. Hadrian could use one class without them and he had Blaise in it instead.

Professor Babbling gave them back their worksheets evoking a chorus of unhappy murmurs. Hadrian had spent more than nine hours doing them in the library, and then checking with his private book collection because the books he had found were very vague in some parts. Granger groaned when she looked at her grade. Last time she stormed out of class the minute it ended, and rumors said that she got only an A. Hadrian himself got a low EE which was three points above Acceptable. It irked him but he loved the subject, so the next day he showed up on consultations with his worksheets and talked Babbling into detailing what was lacking and how he should take on an assignment like that. Terry looked at him like he was crazy, saying that Babbling suffered no fools, so he and Anthony stayed outside waiting for him. Hadrian too had doubts, but weren’t consultation hours made for students who have questions about the material?

It paid off because when Babbling handed him his worksheet, she smiled. An O. Hadrian looked at it with satisfaction. When he talked with her one on one, she was much less distracted and actually had time to focus on discussing what was lacking. Hadrian even figured out what she wanted to read or see, which wasn’t that obvious. Babbling was wonderful in explaining multiple uses of Runes but she constantly forgot to explain what would be expected from them in exams and from their assignments.

“How did you do that?” whispered Blaise furiously, grabbing Hadrian’s worksheet to compare it with his. “I’m two points short of an EE, and I spent a whole afternoon doing that.”

“Nine hours in the books,” admitted Hadrian just as quietly.

He felt proud. He didn’t feel it often because he was studying hard for every subject and put extra work into his potions, but even Snape paled in comparison to Babbling’s grading. If he could keep it up, there was a chance for an O as his final grade which would be absolutely magnificent. The average of the grades in individual years, together with the results from O.W.L.’s and N.E.W.T.’s, were important when someone wanted to apply for an apprenticeship. The competition between the students has been fierce over the years from what he had heard. The mastery was a requirement to be able to work in many places, even at the Ministry of Magic. A lot of people there had a Mastery in Politics, History or both.

“I can’t believe I got a low EE again,” grumbled Anthony, when Babbling left the classroom and they were collecting their things. “And she gave us a new worksheet to complete!”

“Terry and I got an A, so don’t complain,” told him Michael. “I doubt anyone got higher grade than you.”

“Hadrian got an O,” said Blaise before Hadrian even opened his mouth.

That received a reaction from everyone nearby.

“What? How did you do that? I spent five hours in the library to complete this worksheet!” Morag sat on the table, looking at him like a hawk. Daphne looked at him with pure astonishment on her face, and Tracey reached for his worksheet, which he gave her.

“It must have taken so long to complete it! It’s so detailed but I don’t recognize a lot of information.”

“I spent nine hours on it, and I found out that library’s books are lacking sometimes… The textbook is useless,” he admitted because the textbook was truly awful when it came to the worksheets. It was too vague and the chapter about translations was pretty abysmal. He was tempted to say more, but they were his rivals, and his friends could be told when they were alone later.

“The textbook should be enough for the class since Professor assigned it herself,” said Granger. Hadrian hadn’t noticed her standing near them but he hadn’t made habit of observing her either. “She can’t require more from us during the class to pass it.”

“Well, you are passing it. Just on As and low EEs. The textbook doesn’t cover much. That’s the fact,” Hadrian answered trying to sound indifferent. She outright snorted, took her bag and left.

Granger was getting better. She wasn’t interrupting conversations or arguing about something she overheard by accident. Nevertheless, the belief that she was always right remained, even though it was often expressed with quiet snorts or disapproving glances. Hadrian wasn't going to deny her being one of the best students of their year, although the more difficult the classes turned out to be, the worse Granger endured her failures. According to Granger, failure was anything that was not a perfect result. Anyone who got a better grade was targeted with her furious glare. Neville Longbottom's hands literally shook after Professor Sprout loudly praised him for getting the first place in the Herbology ranking, and he hid behind one of the plants for the whole class. When she landed fifth in Transfiguration, she was fuming the second she saw anyone ranked higher. Of course, she was putting her fair share of work into her studies but it didn’t mean that she would be the best in everything. And what was the point of getting angry about someone getting higher grade?

“As for the additional reading, there was a book listed on translations. It’s better than the chapter in the textbook,” he said to Daphne and Tracey. Morag perked up at this too. “But there are only five of them in the library so I bought it. The worksheet is difficult anyway but this way we have more information.”

They talked a bit as they walked but soon, they had to split up. Slytherin had Transfiguration with Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, Herbology with Hufflepuff.

“I will walk you there,” proposed Theodore.

Hadrian smiled at him.

“You don’t have to. We are going outside while you have classes on the fourth floor, and we already spent some of the break talking. It’s okay,” he let him down gently. Theodore walked him to his classes a few times, and it felt nice. Hadrian liked Theodore very much and enjoyed being around him, but the jealous side of him destroyed everything. Sullied it. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do about it but he was more comfortable distancing himself a bit.

*

Hadrian wrote back and forth with Andromeda a lot about the Black family curse because apparently, there was more than one and it was hard to pinpoint which one it was. There was the most famous Black madness curse, which showed in different ways and then there were the Isolation and the Vanishing curses. None of them were easy to identify, which was written on the hands of the enemies that the Black House made through the centuries. Apparently, wizards were the most vindictive creatures out there and preferred to curse bloodlines with the most problematic illnesses that ever existed. If someone found a way to curse their foes with the Dragon Pox, it sure would be popular.

Andromeda hadn’t known anyone with the Vanishing curse but Regulus had a mild case of the Isolation one and Bellatrix was widely known as burdened with Madness. Hadrian wasn’t sure about asking Bellatrix or especially Regulus about the curses, but Andromeda talked him into it anyway since they had a chance to progress unexpectedly. At this point, Hadrian had easily started to lose more than half an hour here and there, and the feeling of dissociation could last for days. It wasn’t something he wished for, but if asking Bellatrix couldn’t cause any harm, asking Regulus was, in his opinion, risky.

For one, he hadn’t seen the man in his life. Hadrian knew that Regulus was the best friend of Severus Snape, worked with the Unspeakables and as far as he knew, didn’t have any obligations to answer his questions. Adding to that, asking about the curse would raise his curiosity without any doubt, because only Blacks could show the clear signs, and from what everyone knew, Hadrian wasn’t a Black.

That meant Regulus would need to be told about Sirius and James screwing up the ritual, and Hadrian having three parents. Hadrian wasn’t comfortable with telling him without any oath, which Andromeda knew, so she proposed a meeting. The sooner the better, he supposed, although Hadrian negotiated about asking Bellatrix first and then moving onto Regulus. The problem was, Bellatrix wrote back very quickly that she doubted Hadrian was touched by the Black madness and the symptoms were clearly similar to the Isolation curse.

Hadrian felt very anxious about the whole situation. Knowing that something was wrong with him was one thing. Having the possible name for it and getting to know that it could get much worse and dangerous, was a different matter altogether. His stomach hurt quite often and he couldn’t eat much. Falling asleep took a long time, so he tended to stay up reading or just observing the calming patterns of magic in the walls. Finally, he dug out the book about meditation and occlumency, and started to meditate before sleep to calm his mind, which worked quite well.

Andromeda suggested a meeting at Hogsmeade, which was the only solution that could work out during the school year. Hadrian was allowed to go, though he didn’t do it often. Hogsmeade had its charm, but it got boring after few outings. So, they made a trip for getting new sweets or some quills, maybe once a month and that was it. Meeting Andromeda and Regulus there wouldn’t be suspicious, although he’d have to tell Anthony, Terry, and Michael beforehand, so they could cover for him. 

He had to think it through, but eventually, he agreed. There was no point of dragging it out since he wasn’t going to take any chances with the curse interfering with his schooling.

He was still cross with the idea of involving Dorea Black. She had right to know as the acting Head of the Family but she hadn’t written back or contacted him at all. Andromeda promised to visit her personally and convince her to meet them. Hadrian had, once in his childhood, adored his grandmother but now the thought of seeing her was making him sick. Not only that… The Regent Potter, Regulus and Andromeda Black and him in Hogsmeade would cause some rumors for sure. It would be unusual, and from what the public knew, Regulus hadn’t spoken to Andromeda in years. Probably longer than Nymphadora was alive.

But if they met somewhere else? If he was portkeyed from Hogsmeade? No one would know if it were for three or four hours. His friends could cover for him… or Remus? No, not Remus. Hadrian wasn’t about to tell him that he was meeting with Regulus. Sirius often ranted about his brother and called him misguided, dark and perfect little Black their mother longed to raise. There was a lot of animosity between them and Remus had probably heard awful things about Regulus. Even with his oath he could insist on going with him, and that wasn’t what Hadrian wanted at all.

Andromeda wasn’t against taking a portkey from Hogsmeade after Hadrian reasoned it in his letter, but she hadn’t given up on convincing him about the merits of talking to his grandmother. Hadrian could talk it through with Terry, Michael, and Anthony, but he wanted it to be his own decision. He knew they would tell him to contact Dorea again. He too could see the pros of it, although the hurt of being ignored was still quite fresh. What if she refused to come?

Logically, he knew that his problem with Dorea was purely an emotional one. He was mad at her, he harbored a lot of hurt, and couldn’t grasp why she would leave them alone and cast him away because of what his father had said and done. She must have remembered that Hadrian and her had wonderful relationship, and Charles liked her very much. Anne was always happy to see her too.

He had to get over these thoughts and start thinking strategically. The realization, that in the worst case Dorea Black would ignore him again and it would not change anything, was the first step to that. He would be still in this weird place, trying distance himself from Walburga’s grabby hands and Dumbledore’s hold on Potters. He still had people who cared about him and who were willing to help him.

“Are you alright?” asked Theodore one evening when they were still at the library. “You seem troubled.”

“There is something but it’s a family business.”

It was a very effective way of not answering any questions. Purebloods took family matters very seriously and respected the secrets. No one wanted the public know about their family magic or arguments because it could be used against them. Families stuck together if they wanted to be seen as powerful and untouchable.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Draco maybe half an hour later when they were putting the books away together. “I overheard, but I am not stupid and I know that it’s probably a Black matter, so… I am partly a Black too.”

Hadrian didn’t know what to make of this offer.

“It is,” he admitted. “It’s… I wanted to make the decision by myself, you know? I can tell what the advice would sound like but I don’t like it. I suppose I should be more logical than emotional, but I don’t like the solution somebody offered with involvement of someone I am very cross about.”

Draco put away a huge encyclopedia with both of his hands, and then looked at him.

“This someone you are angry with… They’re family?”

Hadrian nodded. “I can’t tell if they’ll even show up. I will be disappointed if they won’t, because I haven’t seen them in years, but I won’t like it if they will either.”

“Whatever you decide, you can always think about them spilling their wine or falling down the stairs. I do this all the time with aunt Bellatrix,” said Draco and Hadrian had to stifle his laugh so Mrs. Pince wouldn’t hear him. He could picture Draco doing something like that while maintaining the proper etiquette.

“Thank you for your advice.” It wasn’t a very good one, but it lifted Hadrian’s mood considerably, and probably was a nice method to endure unwanted company. “Draco… if I wanted to tell you something, would you swear an oath to keep it a secret?” Hadrian asked after a small pause.

The surprise was clear on Draco’s face but he quickly got it under control.

“I would.”

Hadrian had no idea what had come over him to ask but the answer was quite funny. Why was it that Draco, the Black sisters or even his friends were so quick to agree when people who raised him weren’t? It was a matter of trust and respecting others. Shouldn’t the people who have known him since birth trust hi, if not the most? The oaths and vows seemed to be so popular and so ingrained in their culture, that using them was as normal as breathing. Were the differences between so called Light and Dark families so big? Why people were afraid of magic when it just asked for loyalty from them while being slightly binding?

It kept bothering him throughout the next few days, resulting in insomnia. He was drowsy during the day, and when he went to bed, he couldn’t sleep. It was so frustrating. Terry was snoring softly at the other end of the room, while he was tossing and turning constantly, unable to get comfortable.

“It’s ridiculous,” he murmured to himself on the fourth night. Beside him laid _The Art of War_ by Machiavelli and he had read the whole book once more in the span of two nights, calming himself down with the familiarity of words.

Andromeda wrote back. Hadrian had agreed to involve Dorea, but Regulus wouldn’t be able to return from France until the following week, so their meeting was set on the next Hogsmeade weekend. Regulus was going to be waiting for him in the village, and then portkey them both. His grandmother had replied and was willing to meet Andromeda in her house. Hadrian doubted she knew what exactly she was needed there for, at all.

Hadrian couldn’t help but feel anxious and angry. Dorea Black had written back to Andromeda the next day. Why couldn’t she reply to him? What she was going to say? The sinking feeling in his chest was growing steadily as his thoughts ran wild. He had eight days to get used to the thought of speaking with her. Would it be terribly improper to ask her why she did that? Should he even care if he said something offensive?

By Friday his hands were shaking so much that Hadrian was glad he didn’t have Potions, because he wouldn’t have been able to cut anything properly. His friends noticed of course, but apart from Anthony, Michael, and Terry; they had no idea what it was about. It didn’t stop the worried looks thrown his way or tactful questions.

“Here. Calming draught. You are so stressed, it’s painful to watch,” said Blaise, giving him a vial of potion when they met at their table in the library. “Be quick so Mrs. Pince won’t see you.”

“Why would he drink anything that you are giving him? He’s not stupid,” said Theodore.

Hadrian could almost pinpoint the moment the whole table become tense. He had caught up to the rumors about Zabini’s mother. The Black Widow, poisons, black magic, the mysterious deaths of men she married… It made people afraid of Blaise. Even the rest of Ravenclaws watched him suspiciously from time to time. Terry too, although he wasn’t obvious about it. With the Slytherins he could never tell, but from the way they looked at the vial, there was a certain dose of fear in their eyes. As if someone would be so stupid to poison a student by giving them something to drink, with so many witnesses around.

He didn't even hesitate to take the vial from Blaise and drink its contents at once. The taste was awful like always, but he felt a little better immediately. His hands didn't stop shaking right away, but the potion took the edge off.

“Thank you. It helped,” Hadrian said and smiled to Blaise, who smiled back. It was almost like Hadrian had passed some kind of test.

There was a moment of stunned disbelief before everything slowly went back to normal, even if occasionally, some of them looked at him like they expected him to drop dead in the middle of writing his essay. Theodore looked ready to kill someone and was glaring at Blaise over a transfiguration textbook.

“What?” Blaise finally said, putting away his quill and looking straight at Theodore. “I wouldn’t poison him Nott, but if we are going by rumors, then Hadrian should be afraid of disappearing from the way you look at him.”

A quick body-binding spell was the only thing that prevented a furious Theodore from throwing himself at Blaise, which should have surprised Hadrian, but really didn’t.

“Calm down. I don’t want to be banned from the library for the next week or land myself a detention,” hissed Daphne, clearly annoyed before she canceled the spell. “Keep it down or get out.”

No one knew what to say but Blaise went back to ignoring Theodore, who looked like he was counting all the curses he wanted to cast on Zabini in his mind. It seemed to be a pretty common situation because Daphne was unfazed, as if it happened very often. And maybe it did, if Theodore really hated Blaise that much. Hadrian still didn’t know why, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Of course, he knew that neither families were saints, but hearing how exactly the Nott’s could make people disappear would fuel his imagination quite badly.

He didn’t sleep that night at all, not even when the sun came up. Usually, he was able to catch three or maybe four hours of sleep, but the meeting with Andromeda, Regulus and Dorea successfully robbed him of it. He vomited twice, and it helped him feel less nauseous but left him a bit dizzy. His hands were stone cold when he covered his face, sitting on the ground.

Terry found him like this around seven.

“Do you want to go see Madam Pomfrey?” Terry asked, crouching beside him. Hadrian shook his head.

“I’m often nauseous when I am nervous,” Hadrian answered quietly. “I’m already feeling better. At least my head doesn’t hurt.”

Terry of course blabbed to Anthony and Michael, so at the breakfast he was almost force-fed a toast and a lot of tea. Lily, Morag and Sue had already asked him if he was sick, which made their cover story stronger. He would go with his friends to the village like he would normally, and then Michael, Anthony, and Terry would hide for a bit on the outskirts. If someone asked about him later, they would say that he felt sick and went back to the dorms to sleep it off. It should work nicely.

He only hoped that no one would join them, but the early hours should prevent it. He had to meet Regulus at nine by the fountain on the other end of Hogsmeade, and most of the students did not leave Hogwarts until around noon, taking advantage of the weekend to sleep a little longer. While leaving the great hall, a quick glance at the Slytherin table assured him that none of his friends had appeared for breakfast yet. They were ready to leave. Hadrian had spent a long time choosing the right clothes, finally deciding on the deep green dress shirt, black trousers and robe. They were of good quality but didn’t look like he was trying to dress up too much, and the shirt complemented not only his eyes but his earrings too, which he rarely took off.

Anthony held his hand on their way and Michael teased and joked constantly, with Terry joining in from time to time. It didn’t help to ease his nerves at all, but he was thankful for the attempt to comfort him anyway. He had really wonderful friends.

He saw Regulus first and said a quick goodbye. The man was already looking at him with clear curiosity. Hadrian had only seen his childhood photos but indeed the resemblance had only deepened with age. They had the same cheekbones and chins, identical hair color and wild curls that they shared with Bellatrix. Regulus, like Sirius, was very tall, easily over 6 feet, while Hadrian still wasn’t sure if he was 5 foot 5’ yet. The Black brothers had the same stormy deep-set eyes, but while Sirius was more masculine and had very broad shoulders, Regulus was slim, thin and held himself with an elegance that Sirius lacked.

“Hadrian Potter?” Regulus asked when Hadrian came closer. His gaze drifted over Hadrian's face, probably cataloging their shared features.

“Yes. Mister Regulus Black, I suppose? Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, Mister Potter. Do you mind side-along apparition? It would be much easier on the wards.”

It was so painfully awkward, and Hadrian had no idea on how to act around him apart from being polite and cordial, although he refrained from the traditional greeting. In the end, they were illegally transporting him from Hogwarts grounds to a theoretically unknown location.

“I don’t mind.”

Hadrian took the offered arm and instantly he felt a tug, and then they were being squeezed through an invisible pipe. Their arrival on Andromeda’s porch was sudden and he nearly lost his balance when his feet hit the ground. He absolutely detested apparition, but then again, he hated every form of magical transport. The floo was worse with all the ash and dust and portkeys always made him sick and disoriented after landing. At least apparition was only unpleasant and suffocating.

Hadrian let go of the man’s arm, took a deep breath, and the next one when the first didn’t help. The funniest thing was, Regulus did the exact same thing. Curious. Did Regulus also dislike the floo and portkeys? He was debating internally if he should ask or not, when the door opened and Andromeda smiled at them warmly. It was just her with them, as her husband and Nymphadora were at work. Hadrian actually couldn’t remember if he had ever met Mr. Tonks at all. If he did, it must have been a really long time ago.

“Regulus, Hadrian, come inside. Aunt Dorea is already here.”

The Tonks household looked like a weird fusion of an ordinary suburban household and an old wizarding home. There was a lot of magic in the air, and the wards thrummed with power, even though everything from the beige tiles to the light dusty pink walls seemed inconspicuous. It was also squeaky clean, no doubt an effect of Andromeda’s pedantic tendencies and the meticulous work of the house elf.

Weirdly enough, Hadrian was feeling strangely calm when he walked into a familiar sitting room. He had a feeling that he would be vomiting again afterwards because sometimes stress hit him after a small delay. 

Dorea Black definitely looked older and more tired that he remembered. She hadn’t tried to hide her wrinkles or gray hair, which were standing out from her black curls gathered in an elegant updo. The age hadn’t diminished her beauty. She held her head high, perched on the armchair and holding the teacup like she was poising for etiquette books. His grandmother looked every bit like an elegant woman from higher society but utterly out of place in Andromeda’s home.

Her gray eyes zeroed on him momentarily and Hadrian forced himself not to look away. Her face stayed impassive so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking or if she was as surprised as everyone. Probably. Maybe she was comparing him to James in her mind, maybe not. She hadn’t said anything, and no one introduced him to her. According to traditional greetings, he could introduce himself, although it wouldn’t be terribly rude if he didn’t. Perfect.

“Why I am needed here, Andromeda, Regulus?” she asked when they all were seated. Hadrian was a bit tired of being right. Andromeda hadn’t told her anything. At this moment, the ignorance was bordering on insulting instead of rude. Regulus was watching it like a spectacle.

“Well, it come to my attention, that Hadrian here is showing symptoms of the Isolation curse. It’s mild but is progressing over time,” Andromeda said clearly bewildered. It took a while to click in Hadrian’s mind. _Dorea Black had no idea who he was._ It was both terribly upsetting and hilarious.

Especially when Dorea put her teacup on the saucer much harder that she probably intended to, and she looked at Hadrian again, clearly shocked.

“Don’t worry if you didn’t recognize me, grandmother. It happens when one severs contact for nearly nine years, and then doesn’t answer to correspondence.” Hadrian couldn’t help himself. The years of wondering what had become of his grandmother, the whole dilemma with contacting her and writing to her, the thoughts her not writing back brought to his head… It all cumulated in one cutting sentence, said in an overly nice tone.

Regulus twitched unexpectedly, as if he had suppressed a sudden burst of laughter at the last moment. Hadrian had caught Draco doing it too many times to mistake it with something else. Andromeda had pure resignation on her face but her eyes sparkled with mischief. She didn’t like the way Dorea decided that it was the best to treat her family in such a way.

“What are the symptoms and how long do you remember having it?” asked Regulus, getting to the heart of the matter. “I saw that you were having trouble with breathing during apparition. Does it also affect different means of transport?”

“I feel nauseous after taking the floo. Ashes, dust and spinning are suffocating the same way that the squeezing during apparition is. And the rush of the wind hitting my face makes it very difficult to take a breath,” he said not really knowing what to say. In all his fretting about this meeting, he hadn’t planned out what he needed to talk about. “I can see and smell magic,” told them Hadrian. “It started when I was young. Getting lost in my mind appeared later. I had a tendency to do it but I snapped out of it easily. Then, when I got admitted into Hogwarts, it got progressively worse. Recently I am beginning to lose time. In the corridors, on the stairs, I don’t have any control over it. It’s hard to describe. I am going somewhere, thinking about something, and suddenly I am three floors down being led by my friends, so I wouldn’t fall down. Then sometimes there is this feeling… I found a name for it in a book. Dissociation. I have trouble maneuvering my body at all. Like it’s a shell I am not longer in. It can last up to twenty minutes from what I know and from what my friends have observed.”

“How do you deal with it at school?” asked Dorea. Her voice was a little shaky.

“My friends. Someone is always with me, and when they notice I am slipping, they take my arm to lead me, sit me down or take away whatever I have in hands so I don’t drop it. In Ravenclaw people are accommodating.”

“And James?” prodded Dorea and that was the moment that Hadrian dreaded the most. The question hit right where it hurt the most. Once Hadrian wrote a letter where he insinuated a lot of things were wrong in the Potter family, but now he had no idea if he wanted to talk about it with Dorea at all. For what it was worth, his grandmother looked concerned. “And James, Hadrian?” she asked again after a while.

“He hasn’t changed and has only gotten worse,” he said in the end, sounding far more resigned that he intended to. “I haven’t spoken or written to him since December in my second year, I am now in my third. I sometimes, maybe once in one or two months, correspond with mother. I tend to spend my summers and winter breaks with Corners, then Goldsteins with my friends. I wrote to you because I wanted you to take me in or forbid James from requesting that I come to the Potter’s Cottage.” It sounded like he was hurt, like he was reproaching her. It was all true but his failure to hide it was jarring. “I manage by myself with my living accommodations. Anemone likes to stay away too.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause until Regulus decided to break the silence.

“What I fail to understand is how Hadrian managed to fall victim to a Black family curse, especially the one that concerns mainly those from the main branch.”

Hadrian had written to Andromeda about that part. They had agreed that it was easier to get Regulus under an oath than to let his curiosity run wild. Blacks were, in general, a very curious bunch, which Hadrian knew and would add noisy and pushy into the mix.

“I want an oath to keep this meeting a secret unless I release you from this obligation or this knowledge becomes widely known, if I am going to tell you,” said Hadrian.

“Hadrian, do you even know what you are asking for?”

“I’ll swear one.”

Really. How it was that people who hardly knew him, like Regulus, were willing to swear an oath so easily, and his own family had to be persuaded or tricked into it.

“I know what I am asking for, grandmother.” He didn’t want to plead or engage in convincing her. They looked into each other's eyes, and again Hadrian couldn’t tell what was going on in his grandmother’s head. She was probably reevaluating everything she knew or thought about him. Maybe she was willing to wait a moment to see if he backs up the thoughts.

“Alright.”

It was a bit anticlimactic but Hadrian got oaths from both of them, and proceeded to tell them briefly about how he met Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy at the Goldstein Ball, and how their curiosity caused the meeting between him and the Black sisters, which revealed his parentage. He spent more time telling them his theory about how it all happened.

The more he talked, the more his grandmother looked torn between mortified and furious, having forsaken her composure and the more fascinated Regulus seemed to be.

“There was so much that could go wrong with them using the wrong wording or freely choosing only parts of rituals,” he said. “It’s a wonder your magic isn’t unstable or lashing out.”

“James should have known better. Sirius too.” Dorea didn’t bother to hide the anger in her voice. “Even if they mistook it with an adoption ritual, it wasn’t created for an adoption by one person. There have to be two parents because some magic isn’t compatible with different branches. Light magic or core can react wildly to dark one. Old magic can easily disturb newly performed ritual, and that is mostly the case with family magic. I would say that Hadrian’s abilities were saved by Lily being a muggleborn and the Potter and Black blood in James veins. It amplified the Black family magic in him instead purging foreign magic.”

“It puts Hadrian in the position of inheriting the heir title since he’s magically recognized as Sirius’ son. If it didn’t need to be confirmed by goblins, mother would be trying to get his custody without a doubt. She is pressing us for children constantly.”

Dorea pressed her lips together, clearly unhappy by the thought of Walburga Black petitioning for his custody.

“I have thought of it more since we first got this information. Magically, Hadrian is more of a Black than he ever was a Potter,” commented Andromeda. “There is a really old law, and if Lord Black petitions for removing the member of his house from the Potter family’s care, there would be no chance that the custody wouldn’t be given to him. Especially because he’s not heir Potter.”

Hadrian’s blood ran cold. He didn’t know about it and in their letters, they never talked about the custody because Andromeda was indeed looking into it more seriously, but he hadn’t suspected it would be such a clear case. The only defensive strategy at this point was to keep it all the secret.

“Does Sirius know?” asked Regulus.

“He doesn’t. He’s still in the continent and I am not sure if I want him to know,” answered Hadrian. And then the sudden realization hit him hard. “Do you think he realized it and is distancing himself? I mean, he always commented on how I look like a Black. James hated it.”

This was a side of this history he hadn’t considered yet. What if Sirius and James knew that they had made a mistake? They weren’t stupid or blind. James was an accomplished Auror, just like Sirius. Did they ever speak to each other? Was Sirius even in the continent from his free will all this time? As his superior in rank, James could assign him any missions as he pleased, and there was no point in hiding that James Potter was a vindictive bastard and didn’t like admitting his mistakes. There was a contemplative silence when he shared his thoughts.

“Apart from this, is there anything to help with the Isolation curse? Is it even this curse?” Hadrian asked Regulus. They had strayed too far from the topic, although it was the point of them even meeting in the first place.

*

Like Regulus explained, there was a little he could do about this curse. There was no known cure and no therapy, but the universal healing rituals worked. Hadrian had to admit, he felt better after celebrations and – for the lack of better wording – incidents were weaker after them, than at the middle or end of the terms. Neither Dorea nor Andromeda were experts in ritual magic, and Regulus could only speculate on his and Hadrian’s experiences, that letting the magic flow through their bodies during the celebrations and getting lost in the feeling was somewhat healing and improved their grip on the reality.

That pushed Hadrian to rummage through his collection in search for the book on rituals that could be performed by a single person. It wasn’t hard to get, but the title wasn’t so obvious. It was recommended by Lady Corner and was quite expensive, but if it was going to help him even a little bit, it was worth it. There was a slight hesitation, because there was no saying if performing the ritual wouldn’t cause him to get lost in it like it happened during the celebrations. He had Terry in his room, and could always ask Anthony and Michael to watch him too, but what could they do if something went wrong? The rituals weren’t complicated, so it was hard to make a grave mistake, which was some consolation, although he still preferred to have some competent supervision. There was no one at Hogwarts he could ask, unless he found some older student practicing ritual magic. That was possible but Hadrian hadn’t know a lot of people. If he were to guess, he would bet on finding someone like that in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. Maybe someone from a pureblood family in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor, although he doubted it. Perhaps he was deceived by stereotyping but it was hard to imagine Diggory or Bones performing magic that was borderline illegal or highly controversial in the light of political dispute about magic.

This, in turn, left him with a possibility to ask Draco or Blaise, as they were the only people, he was comfortable with asking in Slytherin. It was hard to say if a Ravenclaw would go to a teacher or not, but a Slytherin wouldn’t for sure. Not with ritual magic. They were very protective about wizarding traditions and customs.

If he dared to think about himself as a Black, then asking Draco under an oath would be easier. Blaise had no such obligation to help him and sharing blood created some, especially in the pureblood circle. Draco had already said that he would swear an oath. If Hadrian approached it as telling Draco about his parentage and problem, then deciding whether being under this oath would do him a favor or not, then maybe there would be a chance.

Cornering Draco alone was easier than Hadrian thought it would be. He saw no harm in telling his friends why he needed to talk with Draco, and they conveniently invited him, Daphne, Tracey and Blaise to Ravenclaw’s common room. They never had a rule against inviting in other students, as long as they weren’t causing trouble. He didn’t want to think about the fuss that Theodore would make when he got to know that the Slytherins were inside of the Ravenclaw tower.

He had no trouble taking Draco to his room, under the disguise of borrowing him a book. They were studying at the large table, and he had referred to a book he had bought and read a long time ago. It was about Potions, so of course Draco got interested and wanted to see it.

“Taking advantage of the fact that we are alone now, may I request a favor of you? It’s… I asked around about the curse and I know what it is exactly, but I need an oath. It’s a family matter,” Hadrian said after giving Draco the book. “I would need an oath that you won’t tell anyone, without my clear consent, what you are going to hear from me today.”

Draco hesitated only for few seconds.

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, will not tell anyone, without clear consent from Hadrian Castor Potter, any details or secrets shared during this meeting. So you are family! I knew it,” Draco said triumphantly. “My mother acted a bit different after she went to see aunt Bellatrix and I thought I had heard your name.”

“That’s because they know. In short, Sirius performed a Godfather Ritual wrong. He ended up as my third parent. It’s complicated, only a few people know about it. What’s more pressing, is that you were right about the curse. It’s a family curse, the one that concerns the main family branch – the isolation curse. A…aunt Bellatrix ruled out the Black madness, and uncle Regulus confirmed it.”

“That’s mad,” said astonished Draco. “Completely mad.”

“I need your help because the only thing that will be able to help me become more grounded to reality are personal rituals. I have a book on them, but I need someone to supervise me in the beginning. I don’t know how widely it is known, but I have a strong reaction to rituals and I tend to get lost in them. Do you know anyone? I can even pay them,” Hadrian was speaking fast, not giving Draco a chance to ask questions about Sirius or the Blacks, so they could focus on the favor.

“Would you make an oath to not reveal a secret to anyone?” he asked, unsure, seeming to be torn about something. “It’s nothing dangerous and it’s an open secret in Slytherin but you are not one, and if I take you to someone without it, they won’t be pleased.”

“With what wording?” If Draco could make an oath, he could do too.

“That you won’t reveal the secret I am about to tell you, or any of the participants of the assembly.”

That sounded like… Of course. Of course the Slytherins would be running an illegal ritual celebration in Hogwarts. That made sense.

“I, Hadrian Castor Potter, won’t reveal the secret of any Slytherin student performing rituals in Hogwarts. Come on, Draco. That was obvious,” he added when Draco opened his mouth. “I asked you about students performing rituals and you wanted an oath about an assembly.”

“Damn Ravenclaws.” Hadrian wanted to tell him that it had nothing to do with being a Ravenclaw and definitely more with Draco failing on being mysterious or vague, but decided not to. “Anyway, yes, there is a group of them. I know that Blaise participates, Daphne too, but I think you would prefer talking to Carrow. You know, our prefect. I don’t know if he will talk to you. Technically, you are a Potter. No one has anything against you, but James Potter is still a high profile Auror. I know that Blaise often assists his mother in rituals and he partakes in them at Hogwarts, so he would know about the trick to hide it from the wards. But I think that no one in Hogwarts is truly competent enough to supervise anything.”

“What? What trick to hide from the wards?” Hadrian never thought that the wards could pick up on ritual magic, although he really shouldn’t have been surprised. It was forbidden to use in Hogwarts like the Unforgivable Curses, so putting up detecting wards was sensible.

“They tip off the wards, but you can use the runic circle to prevent that. You would have to ask, because I don’t know about the Runes at all.”

“Do you know what else tips off wards?”

“Not much, to be honest. From what my father has said, ritualistic magic, especially blood rituals, necromantic magic and the Unforgivables without the Imperius Curse. I have no idea why.”

“Well, rituals could easily kill not only the performer, but a lot of students nearby. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone collapsed a part of the school experimenting–” Hadrian started explaining.

“Not that. The Imperius Curse,” Draco interrupted him waving his hands. “The rest is somewhat understandable, even if they banned ritualistic celebrations.”

“That’s probably because Aurors can be authorized, under special permit, to use the Imperius Curse if it’s needed to avoid a large destruction, murder or genocide,” told him Hadrian. “A lot of wards have an exception like this. In the Ministry for example. I thought Hogwarts would have tightened it up, but I guess no one counts on children knowing spells like that.”

“You can freely cast an Imperius in the Ministry and no one would be alerted?” Draco parroted. “No one?”

“Well, the Wizengamot hall has its own wards, so it would be known. But in the halls? I doubt it. I once heard James and Sirius discussing how they had to cast in on Rowle because he was resisting too much and refused to enter the courtroom or sit down. But I haven’t seen the courtrooms. Maybe around the accused's seat, there is a runic circle annulling the mind-altering curses. If it’s not, then I would suspect it wouldn’t be detected. In general, if it’s allowed in the building, then there could be sections where it’s forbidden but they would stand out with additional wards or runic circles. Opposite to how the runic circles work here, hiding the magic.” Hadrian shrugged. It was logical.

“And how come something like that isn’t common knowledge?”

“It is, although you would have to read the Ministry of Magic Act with amends. I think it’s the fourth amend, but I’m not sure.” At that point, Hadrian got a bit bashful.

“Circle, who reads those things?” Draco frowned. “I didn’t know there were even any amends.”

“I wouldn’t have known, if I couldn’t sleep and read some of the most boring titles in the small library in our common room. I can’t lend you that one though, because they can’t leave the tower.”

A bit later, when they were coming down to the common room, Hadrian got a weird feeling that he had done something James would most certainly disapprove of. Draco had this pleased glint in his eyes that spoke volumes. Hadrian would bet that Lord Malfoy would soon be getting an owl with the information.

He had done nothing wrong. The information about the Imperius Curse was public, if not a little lost in the sea of legislation. If someone looked hard enough into the wards around the Ministry, they would have found out about it pretty easily. It was the names and specifications of the wards, that were restricted information, so no one could get around them too easily.

He was better without thinking about why this information might be useful for Lord Malfoy and probably his political allies. The less he knew, the safer he was from both remorse and any mess, should something go wrong. His ideas could always be very different from reality. He didn't think Lord Malfoy was relentless in the face of such a temptation, but Draco's father was also too intelligent to abuse the possibility.

Talking in private with Blaise was even easier as they shared Theory of Magic classes, and were always walking to Ancient Runes alone. At first Hadrian was embarrassed to ask, Draco at least was a family of sorts. Blaise had noticed his struggle, but he wasn’t a person to hurry anything, so it had to be Hadrian who brought out the topic. It took him the length of two corridors and all his worries were pointless because it didn’t take any convincing for Blaise to sketch out the circle for him, explain what to use to draw it on the floor and how he could draw runes on a rug to make it more portable. He even suggested two circles – concentric ones – if Hadrian was really sensitive to ritual magic. What was comical for Hadrian, after he told Blaise that Draco told him about some Slytherins performing rituals, that Blaise didn’t ask him any question apart from telling him not to share it with anyone and make sure that Terry won't do it either.

“You have the runic circle on you now. If you use it, you will be guilty and on the way of expulsion as well. Does it matter if I request an oath? You won’t be sharing it with anyone,” told him Blaise when Hadrian, surprised by his trust, asked why he hadn’t requested any oath. So it wasn’t trust at all. That made sense because no matter whether Hadrian wanted to or not, he wouldn’t be treated differently if anyone got caught and the whole secret was out for the world to see.

*

When a month later the world didn’t crumble on his head, Hadrian finally started to relax. Of course, not too much because the finals were nearing and the whole Ravenclaw tower started revising, but enough to start sleeping somewhat normally. He was much calmer, and that he owed to the rituals he was performing.

Figuring out how to draw the circle and turn it invisible took him a week when he realized he didn’t have to make it permanent at all. Chalk was an option and was easily washed out by water or a vanishing charm, and the circle wasn’t that complicated. He could draw it in ten minutes and cover his tracks in five minutes or less if he was sloppy with his spellwork.

He felt a bit stupid that he was doing the ritual alone, but like Draco pointed out, there was no one really competent enough to watch over him. All they could do for him, was showing him the runic circle and that was all. Hadrian was grateful for that. He approached the performing with some caution, however nothing exploded or hurt him. The feeling of peace he remembered from the celebrations, returned on a smaller scale but it was there. The magic slowly channeled through his body… It wasn’t extremely strong, like during Yule or Lughnasadh, so he was perfectly aware of his surroundings yet he often chose to meditate for a while.

No Black tried to contact him apart from the usual letter from Sirius, his mother forgot to send him and Anemone one, Snape hadn’t tried to talk to him again, everyone was getting along more or less… It was too calm. In the last year, there was always something and this pause felt like the silence before a storm, which wasn’t very comforting or nice to imagine. Hadrian would prefer a period of time without any drama, where he wouldn’t have to think about how to come out with an upper hand or avoid a disaster. The realization kept him on the edge for a bit, but he let himself be lulled into a normal routine of the day when nothing was happening. Even Remus seemed to be happier during their classes and walks around the lake.

The Prophet reported a new murder. A mother, a toddler and a nine-year-old. This time it was much closer, barely 75 miles from Hogwarts, and it got the whole great hall to talk about it in hushed voices. The scene wasn’t described, just called disturbing, and from that Hadrian knew, it must have been particularly appalling to watch. In the paper they didn’t say anything about threats, but that hadn’t meant there weren’t any.

And then came a buzzard. It was pretty distinctive one, so Hadrian knew immediately it was something from Lady Malfoy – like every Slytherin, Snape and most of purebloods in the great hall. At least Dumbledore wasn’t there. It was carrying not only a letter but a package, and didn’t wait even a second to take off after it dropped both on his lap. He reached for the letter first and stuffed his mouth with a toast when he read it. And the more he read, the more he had an impression that Lord Malfoy put the knowledge of the Imperius Curse and the wards to use very successfully, since his wife decided to gift him _summer robes she saw and thought of him, with a couple of useful books_ under the guise of _hoping that it will lift his mood after the bad news that Draco conveyed in his letter._ It was a good decision that he had chosen to read the letter first, because he wasn’t about to _finite_ a shrinking charm in the middle of breakfast when table was full.

Anthony, as curious as he was, read over his shoulder, as did Terry from his other side. Michael reached for the letter and Hadrian passed him it to without any word.

“What did you tell them, that they became so happy with you?” Anthony asked quietly, and Hadrian shrugged.

“I have an idea but I don’t know exactly. I am curious what counts as useful books though,” he told them, which diverted the attention immediately. “Good thing that my bag has enlarging charms on it, so we don’t have to go back upstairs. I wouldn’t want to be late for Transfiguration.”

He nearly forgot about the package when Transfiguration got interrupted by a prank. The whole left side of the corridor was turned into a swamp, with frogs, bugs, ducks and plants, which would have been an amazing piece of magic, if it hadn’t set McGonagall off, who assigned them two essays and took points off Lisa because she let her mouse escape from her desk. They had to take a detour to get to the greenhouses in time, and they amused themselves with wondering how the swamp was created, which they knew wasn’t simple. Even Professor Sprout joined in, when the class discussed plants and how they could be moved with charms. Then during Defense Remus showed them a kappa in a large aquarium and a grindylow in another, which was truly disgusting with octopus-like tentacles. Hadrian wouldn’t want to encounter them. Especially when he couldn’t help but imagine a grindylow on a plate in the sea food restaurant. Atrocious.

Hadrian still remembered when his friends tried to get him to try shrimp or pieces of octopus. The mere fact that something like this had touched his tongue, had made him gag, but he couldn’t spit it out, so he bravely swallowed and then tried to cancel the taste with copious amounts of rice, which didn’t work at all. He never touched any sea food again and highly doubted that he would change his mind in the future.

“… it’s just so slimy and jiggles,” he tried to get his point across, when they were leaving. Apparently, his disgust was so noticeable that when he was called to aquarium to point out the characteristics of the tentacles or membranes between kappa’s fingers, whole class got to see it on his face.

“Hadrian, you flinched when the tentacle touched the glass on the other side of your finger,” Morag was clearly amused.

“I for one can understand it. It’s like flobberworms. Just no,” said Hannah Abbott shuddering in disgust. “A blob, like it doesn’t have bones.”

“Because the octopuses don’t have any bones. They have a cartilaginous internal skeleton, but it is minimal,” Hadrian informed her, which got him a lot of looks.

“I am not even going to ask why you know it,” told him Padma before she went ahead to meet her sister.

It was their last class for that day, which left them plenty of the time. Lily and Sue went with her, so only Morag and Mandy stayed behind. They asked if anyone wanted to go to the library, but it was so nice outside that they made plans to go study by the lake. The Hufflepuffs went their way, probably to their dorms, which finally left them alone.

“I hope that no one would be under our tree,” murmured Michael. They had their favorite place outside, which was far enough from the castle that hardly anyone wanted to go there. Students usually chose some alcove or bench in the courtyard right next to the castle, sometimes walking away to the lake, but rarely coming closer to the forest and Hagrid's hut. There was still a chance that someone would want privacy.

Draco caught up with them in the hall. He looked behind him like he was expecting someone to follow him and seemed to be relieved when no one was there.

“I ran from Parkinson. I told her I need to find Crabbe and Goyle, but she offered to help look for them, so I ditched her in the dungeons when she wasn’t paying attention,” he explained. “Are you going outside? I’ll come with you.”

“She’s still convinced she’ll get the betrothal proposal?” asked Anthony. “I thought your mother not speaking with Lady Parkinson, would give her the hint.”

“Clearly it didn’t,” drawled Draco when they hurried away from the castle. “My parents are considering various possible options and are conducting preliminary negotiations, but she doesn’t know it and I can’t tell her, so I have to endure this a bit longer. It becomes inappropriate only when someone has a betrothal contract written and confirmed.”

Hadrian tuned out their conversation, enjoying the weather. It wasn’t hot but warm, there was a slight wind and few clouds in the sky, so he could take off his robe and sit on it on the ground. In the castle it was always chillier than outside, and in the dungeons, it was just cold, so taking a walk outside was sometimes like stepping into an oven. He learnt to cast wandless cooling charms especially for times like that.

Their spot under the tree was free, and Hadrian did exactly what he wanted – he sat on his robe in the shadow and fought the urge to lay down. He hated laying his head on the grass. But then Terry sat a bit behind him to avoid a widely gesticulating Michael, who was retelling something that had Draco and Anthony in tears, Hadrian used his lap as a pillow. Terry was quite accustomed to this, as were the others because they often laid in a pile on someone’s bed.

“You wanted to revise herbology… Do you want me to ask you questions?” asked Terry, and Hadrian nodded.

This year’s material was more complicated and sometimes overlapped with potions, which was useful, although the whole chapter on harvesting contained so much information, it was ridiculous. Hadrian tried to somehow systematize them in tables and it worked out quite well, but there were still nine of them and they were divided into parts of the day. It took him a whole weekend which he could spent revising potions, which accordingly, were more difficult as well and he had trouble applying the theory. Hadrian didn’t want to think about their O.W.Ls or N.E.W.Ts, but from he had seen, learning for them was nightmarish or so Ravenclaws made it seem. He wondered if he would need Potions for anything because dropping the subject sounded wonderful. Still, there was time for thinking about that and he didn't want to go too far with planning.

They got to third chapter of the textbook when Anemone dropped on the ground beside them. Her hair was in a messy braid and she looked angry.

“Hi,” she greeted them, and didn’t waited for a reply before she started her rant. “I can’t even! I went to Hagrid’s because a baby hippogriff had hatched and I wanted to see it. She was adorable, and she even let me hold and pet her. Hagrid had to feed her though, because she doesn’t have a very good aim yet and I was afraid about my fingers… Anyway, I was there, and Ronald, Neville and Ginny made their way there, for the tea. It was awful because the moment Ronald saw me, he started going off about you. Hagrid told him to be quiet but he didn’t stop, so I cursed him to spit slugs and I was so mad, I thanked him for the tea and went out,” she told them furiously. “Cretin.”

There was a pause and then they burst out with loud laughter. Hadrian rolled onto his side and doubled over and Michael fell onto the grass, Draco was sprawled on the ground, Anthony wheezed because he couldn’t breathe right, and Terry shook so badly that Hadrian took his head from his lap. It was hilarious.

They got weird looks from people nearby, but no one cared. Apparently, the weather was so nice that studying or resting outside was a popular idea among the students. There was still a lot of space between the groups, so Hadrian hadn’t had an urge to move elsewhere.

“I have no idea how long will it last because I casted it for the first time,” she added with a smile. “Totally worth it! You have to teach me the curse with spiders. Oh! Are those your notes? Can I have them after the finals?”

“I’ll give them to you later. Why won’t you ask Theodore about the curse? He’s the one who is the best at it.”

“I don’t like him,” answered Anemone simply.

“Why?” asked Michael when he finally stopped giggling and got a hold of himself. “Did he say something to you?”

“No, but I don’t like the way he looks at Hadrian. Like he is mad at him for talking to other people or doing things without him,” she summed it up and bit her lip. “It’s weird. He didn’t do anything to me and he’s nice enough.”

Hadrian felt that it would be something they would talk about in their room tonight. Especially when Anemone pointed it out. The thing is, he didn't want it to escalate in any way. Theodore worried him, although he had never done anything wrong to him. Just looking wasn't enough. On the other hand, Anthony and Michael would certainly feel obligated to do something. As grateful as he was to them, antagonizing Theodore at this point would do no good. Hadrian was in the process of cooling their contact to make it look as natural as possible and kept his distance. The fact that he never spent any time alone with Theodore definitely helped, because the reluctance to do so now didn't seem strange or suspicious. He only hoped that his friends would see his point of view.

“Okay, I’ll teach you, but we have to pick a target,” he offered.

“You!” hollered someone and Hadrian had to twist himself to see who it was. Weasley, with Longbottom in tow were marching straight towards them. “You are lucky it didn’t stick–”

“Because what, Weasley? Were you going to throw your wand at her? It would be more useful than you trying to cast anything with that broken twig. Did you use muggle tape? Couldn’t get a new wand?” Draco interrupted him, clearly enjoying an opportunity to insult him. “Why don’t you just leave?”

“Shut up, Malfoy!” yelled Longbottom in rare fit of bravery.

“You heard him, poncy git!”

“I haven’t heard anything. I thought it was a toad,” joined in Anthony. Earlier that month somebody jinxed Longbottom and for a week he only squeaked like a toad, much to the delight of most people around. Hadrian would bet it was the Weasley twins, because the week after that some first years Gryffindors started roaring like lions or tweeting like random birds.

“Shut it. I wasn’t even talking to you. It’s not Malfoy’s business either! It’s this little brat!”

“Don’t speak about my sister like that, Weasley,” told him Hadrian. “If your sister allows you to speak to her this way, do as you please, but lay off Anemone. Percy would be interested in writing to your home. And what was it? In the last howler your mother said that she’ll take you home.”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say to the enraged boy. Weasley got a famous Molly Weasley howler, the day after a huge disaster in potions that resulted in a loss of one hundred points for Gryffindor and a couple of detentions with Snape, because Weasley talked back in vulgar way after he made his cauldron explode. Four students had to see Madam Pomfrey about huge burns. The howler was very embarrassing for Weasley, especially because everyone had heard it in an addition to the reminder that he nearly failed Potions last time.

“At least they want me home, you freak! Who sent you this package today? For sure not your parents! Did you start to whore yourself out to the dark wizards? It’s the only thing you are good at!” Weasley was being so loud that everyone in hearing range were paying attention, but now he was yelling even louder.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley, how dare you!” Hadrian hadn’t even noticed that Percival was sitting somewhere on their left with Penelope Clearwater and their friends, but he didn’t have time to look.

Terry’s spell had thrown Ronald right into the lake. Draco just had to join in and trip him.

Weasley hadn’t shut up, yelling more about him being a whore and dark wizards, that Hadrian cursed him, which brought Weasley to hysterics when he saw spiders crawling on his body and gave Hadrian some sort of satisfaction seeing how the redhead fell into the water again. He casted loudly, demonstrating the spell for Anemone, although he doubted that she even paid attention when she was standing with her wand out as well. Hadrian hadn’t noticed if she cast something or not, although he suspected that Weasley hadn’t tripped himself.

He was good at pretending that he didn’t care about anything Weasley was yelling about, but the words stung. He knew that his relationship with his parents was a disaster at best and he hadn’t thought of James of as his father for a long time, harbored a lot of hurt when it came to his mother, and thought that Charles was a cruel jerk, but he didn’t need Weasley to point it out. Of course, Weasley didn’t know anything important and could only yell about his observations and thoughts with an addition of things he thought would hurt him.

Percival caught up to them, furious. There were red splotches on his face, and he seemed to be at a loss for words when he silently casted some spells to take his brother out of water.

“Leave him there to cool down!” someone screamed and people laughed, which didn’t help at all to calm Ronald down.

“What was that Ronald?! Fifty points from Gryffindor and a week of detention with professor McGonagall! I am most certainly telling mother! Longbottom, a week of detention with head of the house!” Hadrian noted with satisfaction that Weasley paled. He didn’t care how much points they are going to lose. “And you!” Percival turned on them. “No matter how disgraceful and foul someone is, that’s not a way to resolve conflicts! Detention on Saturday! All four of you! Boot, Potter, Potter and Malfoy! Ronald, to the castle. I don’t want to see you near Hadrian again! What were you thinking–” Percival practically dragged his brother towards the castle. He hadn’t touched him but Hadrian could see that he had to restrain himself because he was shaking. There were two or three aborted movements of his hand. Longbottom hurried after them.

“One detention for dropping him into a muddy lake, tripping him in the water and cursing him?” Draco looked like he had trouble believing his luck. He was gleeful.

“What can I say, dear Percival likes me better,” Hadrian couldn’t help but say. Despite the next burst of giggles, Anemone was clearly troubled by Weasley’s words because she reached out to hold his hand.

“You know I love you, right?” she asked quietly. “You are the best brother.”

“Of course. I love you too, Anne.”

*

Anthony was looking downright murderous sitting on Hadrian’s bed. 

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” he asked and he sounded upset.

“Because what could you have done? Tell him to not look at me?” Hadrian asked in turn. He was folding his new robes and putting them into his wardrobe. There were five of them, and each one seemed so expensive that it got him flustered. The quality was simply the best and the colors complemented his complexion nicely. They had cooling runes inside, so he wouldn’t get too hot during summer, and the styles varied from formal to casual.

The books were nice too. Hadrian was almost sure that one of them was barely legal, but it had wonderful descriptions of complicated wards, so he couldn’t care less. There was also a nice set of tomes about laws, politics and the management of vaults, which was helpful, if a little boring. He had to know those things if he wanted to function actively in their society.

“Are you sure it’s only looking?” pressed Anthony.

Theodore was just looking at him. He had never done anything, and risking a blood feud just because someone looked furious at the sight of him speaking with anyone else who wasn’t previously known as Hadrian’s friend was moronic. He told them so.

“I thought about it a lot,” he admitted additionally. “It unsettles me, but he’s not doing anything. It just makes me uncomfortable, especially because James looked at me like that when he was furious and we were in public, so he couldn’t yell yet he was still fuming inside. It has all the wrong connotations and it sits wrong with me. I noticed it even before your mother’s ball, Anthony. And in the ball, and during this school year.”

“But it still makes you uncomfortable,” pointed out Michael. He was surprisingly reasonable about the whole thing. “You can talk to him.”

Hadrian worried his lip with his teeth. He could talk to Theodore, but would it have any point?

“You don’t want to talk to him alone,” stated Terry looking at his face. “If he makes you that uneasy around him than something has to be done.”

“It just… I saw how aggressive he could be, with Blaise when they were arguing,” Hadrian told them. “And when he has this look in his eyes… He isn’t just angry. He’s furious. It’s like a threat or like he wishes ill for someone I talk with. Once Blaise led me to Runes on his arm and he looked at Blaise like he wanted him to burn alive.”

“But he never done anything – ?”

“Look,” Hadrian interrupted Michael a bit impatiently. He didn’t want to talk about it in the first place, but they had cornered him and started asking question after question, clearly worried. They made this out to be a bigger problem than it was in reality. “I am not going anywhere with him. I am not excluding him from our group but I am slowly starting to keep my distance. Maybe he’ll grow bored of me and move on to somebody else. I don’t want to be obvious because I like him when he doesn’t act like that. He is a Nott. It isn’t worth the drama.”

“I can see your point, but what if you were presented with betrothal proposition from the Nott family? It isn’t completely out of possibility,” said Anthony. “Would you be worried to reject it too?”

“I am going to announce the bloodline curse.” Hadrian was sure it would eliminate him from the list. “No one wants a spouse with curse like that. Adding that to me officially being a Potter and a male, my name should be crossed out without a second thought.”

He had heard enough of talks about betrothal to know it very well. Not many people would compromise the health of their future heir, even if the possible spouse had strong talents and was beside that, a perfect candidate. It was something that just wasn’t done. If Theodore wasn’t the first son, then maybe Hadrian would have to think about a different way to tactfully reject the proposal. He doubted that Lord Nott would let Theodore marry a male. The potions were always there, as was adoption, but a lot of same sex couples had problems with conceiving. Notts were very few in numbers, so having an heir and maybe even two other children would be a priority. Hadrian was convinced that in the grand finale, they shouldn’t even look his way.

Relationships weren’t Hadrian’s priorities at the moment, and he didn't spend much time thinking about it at all. He knew that they weren’t simple and sometimes ended up being really complicated, especially when it came to arranged marriages, so there were situations when people still looked for company outside of the marriage bond. He didn’t want to entertain the thought that Theodore’s interest will hold despite Lord Nott entering his son in a contract. Hadrian didn’t have to think about being in relationship in somebody to know that he wouldn’t want to be someone on the side.

“I would do it soon because the next year, the proposals will start coming in,” said Terry.

Fourteen was an age where the most of proposals were sent. It was a long process and sometimes it took even two years to negotiate a contract with the chosen person, which was done by the Head of the House. Of course, not every House wanted to receive betrothal proposals and Potters were famous for not marrying arranged. It didn’t mean that Hadrian couldn’t, because the moment he was fifteen, he was able to accept a proposal himself and negotiate its terms. It was a relict law from the witch hunting ages that then transformed into a law used by orphaned wizards and witches or those with negligent parents. It had its dangers because Hadrian was well aware that Lords had much more practice in legal maneuvers and negotiating that a fifteen-year-old.

“No one would send father anything like that. The recent Potters never accepted arranged marriages,” he reminded them. “If some madman wanted to, that would be after my fifteenth birthday.”

He was perfectly aware that his political and social standing was leaving much to desire, so there shouldn’t be any trouble with rejecting wizards and witches. Especially when in the eyes of the public he was still a half-blood, and few purebloods families wanted to intervene their lines with such.

“I am going to so enjoy his face when the times come,” murmured Michael but loudly enough for Hadrian to hear him and hit him with a wandlessly thrown pillow.

*

Detention on Saturday wasn’t something he wanted to participate in, especially when he was informed by Penelope that McGonagall delegated their detention to Hagrid, who expected them at noon and would need help with something. Hadrian hoped that they would care for hippogriffs or fix the fence, although he could already hear Draco’s whining. Maybe Anemone could charm the half-giant into giving them some easy work or doing nothing. She told him that she did it once when she got detention because she forgot to turn in her essay.

“I tried to convince Hagrid into giving us something easy and quick to do but he said that he had plans that McGonagall approved of, and didn’t want to tell me what it is,” reported Anemone when they met each other in the hall at quarter to twelve. She wore graphite trousers and a dark blue cardigan on a periwinkle t-shirt. It was muggle, but Hadrian himself wore dark jeans, his worst shirt and robe, because if they were helping Hagrid, he didn’t want to destroy anything he liked.

Terry smiled at her. “At least you tried. I haven’t heard of Hagrid forbidding anyone from using their wands like Filch, so we should be able to deal with whatever it is quickly.”

“It gets worse. Snape told me to behave because Weasley and Longbottom are going to be here too. The Board wanted to expel him, but Dumbledore stood in the opposition and said that loss of points and detentions are adequate punishment,” joined in Draco. He looked at his and Anemone’s didn’t clothing with disgust but haven’t said a word about it, probably seeing the point.

“Wonderful. Sounds like a dreamy afternoon,” murmured Hadrian. He heard about the Board meeting from Anthony, who were furious that someone as violent and unreformable as him should be taught a lesson and detentions clearly never worked. Hadrian personally didn’t care if Weasley got expelled or not. All he wanted was for him stay far away from him, so they both could live their lives in peace. “Whose idea was this? McGonagall?”

“I bet Dumbledore’s.”

“Look at the positives. This is our only detention,” said Terry, and Anemone nodded.

“Hagrid’s better than Filch. He can tell us stories about dragons or kelpies. I heard he has met Newton Scamander!” she told them excited.

Hadrian had no idea why he should be excited about ignoring Weasley the whole afternoon, even if Hagrid did tell good stories about magical animals. There was no denying that it was his passion and that he was good at it. He wouldn’t be the main caretaker at Hogwarts if he wasn’t.

The weather was nice. It was warm, sunny and there was no wind whatsoever. They passed quite a few students on their way to Hagrid's hut, and Hadrian would have preferred to lay down by the lake and read something stimulating like Marcus Aurelius’ _Meditations_ that he got from Terry last Yule, that he hadn’t had a chance to read in peace. Even a Potions textbook would be preferred.

Weasley and Longbottom already were waiting by the hut, and if the looks could kill, Hadrian would have dropped dead the moment Weasley noticed him. Draco sneered when he saw two sacks and bowls stacked under the fence. The bowls looked like animal feeding bowls, specifically dog bowls. Hadrian couldn’t see if they were plastic, because they were laid out too far but they looked like it. What was it about? Because surely, they weren’t feeding the hippogriffs or anything in the lake.

He had a really bad feeling about it.

“What that oaf wants us to do? Feed owls?” asked Draco arrogantly. He still had these moments when he was so unbelievably _Malfoy,_ that Hadrian could build a stereotype of a spoilt and pampered pureblood child on his example.

“Don’t call him that,” Anemone scolded him, clearly annoyed but Draco just shrugged it off. He opened his mouth to say something but the door to the hut opened and Hagrid stepped out with Fang in a tow. The large dog was wiggling his tail so much that his entire butt swayed with it. He felt Terry tense beside him.

“Everyone’s here? Good. Today we’re going into the forest,” Hagrid announced in his heavy accent and booming voice. “Serious business. Nasty one. Professor McGonagall lent you to me because there is a hurt unicorn. I’ve found its blood. We’re going to look for him and leave fodder with healing potions in it, so the poor sod gets better if he’s hiding. We are going along this path, I found blood on the clearing. Potter and Boot here know which one. Old Lockhart took you there but we’ll be taking longer path back.”

“Didn’t Smith vanish from the path?” asked Draco a bit panicked. “Didn’t Lockhart actually go missing in the forest?!”

Even Weasley and Longbottom didn’t argue with this question. Who allowed them to go in there with a gatekeeper who didn’t own a wand? It was ridiculous.

Hadrian had a bad feeling about it, and he had learnt to trust his gut by now.

“No one’s getting hurt. We are leaving ten bowls on the path to the clearing and twenty on the way back, so Boot, Weasley to the sacks, the rest will be taking bowls and looking for unicorn blood.”

“So, a feather-light charm on the sack? The bowls are light enough,” proposed a resigned Terry, taking out his wand.

He casted the spell and took a sack which wasn’t that big. Terry could carry it with one hand easily and it didn’t touch the ground. Hadrian took the bowls without a word, and Anne took a couple from him. Draco kept his distance from any of this but at least he was quiet. They all ignored Weasley grumbling how heavy the sack was. If the idiot forgot that he was a wizard, then he would have to lug it with him. Hadrian had no wish to make it easier for him.

The forest was just as menacing as he remembered. Just a few steps deep into it, the daylight dimmed and an eerie chill made Hadrian grateful that he took his robe with him. The warming charms were useless if there was a wind, and although there wasn’t any, he felt a cold breeze on his ankles as if someone made a draft in the house. They let Hagrid and the Gryffindors go first, and followed a few feet behind them on the path.

“I am looking,” said Hadrian to Terry and Anemone, who didn’t look as happy about detention as she was before. “There’s nothing unusual. No traces of anything weird.”

Draco looked at him curiously before he remembered that Hadrian could see magic. He looked oddly relieved that they had a way to receive even a small warning if something was really there, although Hadrian wasn’t so sure that it was a good warning system. Nature had a wonderful way of creating new adaptations for its creations, so he wouldn’t be surprised if there was something he couldn’t see, even if all creatures he had ever seen had wildly colored magic in them.

The bad feeling hadn’t left but Hadrian knew that last time he was here, he was uneasy and anxious as well. It was probably just the dark atmosphere inside the forest paired with the dimness and silence, because it was a strangely silent forest. From what Hadrian remembered from his childhood, the forests were usually quite loud. The birds, rustle of trees, occasional frog or toad… But there was absolutely nothing here, as if they were under some silencing spell. Hagrid didn’t seem bothered by it by any means, so maybe it was normal.

“At least it hasn’t rained. Last time there was a lot of mud,” commented Terry, and Hadrian nodded. “And Weasley is quiet. Smith couldn’t shut up.”

Hadrian casted a warming charm on Anemone, when she shivered.

“And it’s warmer anyway,” he added. “No one is looking for any blood. It’s ridiculous. We are walking and leaving the fodder, but it has nothing to do with looking for a hurt animal.”

“I wouldn’t want get out of the path,” admitted Anemone. “I heard that was what Smith did. He thought that there was a shortcut, stepped out of path for a while, and couldn’t get back. He didn’t even hear anyone, even if he knew you were going to walk that path after him.”

“My father will hear about it…” hissed Draco looking around as if they were going to get lost like Smith. “It’s called forbidden for a reason. I don’t want to be here any longer.” Hadrian didn’t want to point out that Draco’s voice had anxious edge to it.

“We should be closer to the clearing,” Hadrian told him. “It’s not that far, around twenty minutes, and we have been walking for some time. It’s warmer there and probably sunny. Like outside of the forest. From that point it will be about forty minutes and we’ll be out of here.”

And indeed, they didn't have to walk long before they saw it. The clearing looked exactly like Hadrian remembered, just without the foul mushrooms, which was an improvement in his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t their season. It was full of flowers, to Anemone’s delight and they almost formed a carpet. They weren’t magical, just typical meadow flowers. Hadrian hoped there weren’t many bees as he was allergic to them, along with wasps and bitterns. Once he was stung by a wasp and his hand was so swollen that he couldn't move his fingers. He didn’t want to repeat that experience.

He saw Anemone sigh with relief. It was half of the detention behind them and they only had to go back. They didn’t see any creatures, anything out of place, any blood and no one got hurt, which was wonderful. They walked in a group and Hagrid’s huge body would make anyone think twice about attacking or confronting them. They were safe, nothing to fret or worry about. Draco and his barely hidden nervousness must have been having a bad effect on Hadrian, making him more anxious that he logically should be. Hagrid wasn’t as incompetent as Lockhart, who let them go alone.

Suddenly there was a yell, a crack and a loud cry. Longbottom, in all of his clumsiness had stepped into a hole, tripped himself and fell with his leg still in there. Hagrid and Weasley hurried to help him sit and to look at his leg, which looked awful after Hagrid ripped the trouser leg to Longbottom’s knee. There wasn’t any blood, but it had swelled and bruised quickly, obviously broken.

“It’s okay. Madam Pomfrey will fix you up in a minute,” Hagrid tried to calm him down.

Longbottom was crying and making a lot of noise. It had to hurt quite badly, and Hadrian felt sorry for him but he couldn’t do anything useful. He hadn’t learnt any healing spells beside _episkey_ and _ferula_. The bandaging spell wouldn’t be a good thing, if the leg swelled more and more. Hadrian didn’t know how to immobilize the fracture.

“I know the numbing spell. I don’t know if it’s going to work on broken leg, but I can try. My father is a healer,” offered Terry, and Longbottom nodded despite Weasley looking at Terry suspiciously. As if he preferred Longbottom to feel the broken leg all the way to the castle. Idiot.

“What we are going to do?” asked Anemone. “He has to be taken back.”

“I will take him back, that’s what. I’ll carry the kid and take the shorter way, and you’ll take Fang and go by the longer way back, finishing everything,” said Hagrid. “It’s a straight path, no worries. Nothing here. I walked yesterday to see if something was along the way and saw no traces.”

Terry’s spell clearly worked. Longbottom slowly stopped crying so much, only an occasional sob or hiccup escaped his mouth. He looked panicked but not as much as Draco and Weasley. It had to be an only occasion where they somewhat agreed with each other.

“Can’t we go back with you?”

“You can’t leave us there in the forest to fend for ourselves!”

They yelled at the same time, then looked at each other, scowled and looked away. Hagrid didn’t listen to them. He just picked up Longbottom in his huge hands, told them again to stay on the path and keep Fang with them. He must have been more stressed about the Longbottom heir breaking a leg under his care than he showed, because he even raised his voice on Anemone who protested about being left in the forest.

“There is nothing in here! It’s just the forest, Anne! If something lives here, it’s much deeper into the woods.”

“What we are going to do now?” asked Weasley with an unusually high-pitched voice, as he watched Hagrid leave. Hadrian had no idea if he even realized that he was left with them.

“When Lockhart wanted us to take a walk here, we went as a group, so I propose avoiding splitting up. No one really knows what’s here,” said Terry trying to sound calm, but he was stressed too. Being here in a large group like last time was nothing like being here with four students and a dog, who sat by Anemone’s leg.

“Don’t you dare plan something or ditch me. No funny business,” Weasley grumbled unhappily. He looked like he wanted to run after Hagrid and Neville.

“What with the fodder?” asked Anemone.

“Let’s spill it somewhere and forget about it. We can leave it under a tree, and the next sack in the middle of the path,” said Draco. It was clear he didn’t particularly care for the animal. “Let’s take a small break. It’s awfully cold in the forest.”

“Let’s just do it like planned. It didn’t take much time,” protested Anne. She sat for a while in the middle of the flowers.

Terry shrugged. Hadrian ignored this discussion altogether. He had a weird feeling… like something was watching? Maybe it was his imagination, after all the forbidden forest fed it well, but it was uncomfortable. He tried to look for anything unusual beginning from the side, to ease his worries but he didn't even have time to turn his head when something stamped. It was a low, hollow sound. The trees in the distance rustled as if something had shifted them, and several birds flew into the air. Next stamp. It was like… steps. Really big steps. Fang barked.

“We have to go,” Hadrian said and hurried Anemone to the path. She in turn took Fang by the collar as he didn’t have a leash. “I don’t want to know what makes steps that big.”

“Steps?” whined Weasley. Hadrian would have left the sacks, but Terry already held his and Weasley swopped the second one from the ground. It was a good thing that they put all the bowls into Terry’s sack when it got empty. They only slowed down when they ran into the forest. It instantly got colder. “Did it see us?”

“It was far enough not to. We didn’t seen it, so it may just go a different way,” Terry tried to calm them all down. “It probably wasn’t even close; we just heard the birds when they were roused. The sounds can be carried on for long distances.”

Hadrian hoped so. Anemone was clutching his hand and had her wand out. 

“My father is so hearing about this,” whispered Draco, and for the first time Hadrian would even agree that a responsible adult should be informed.

“Let’s move,” Hadrian told them. The stamping seemed to be more distant now, but he wasn’t the one to tempt the fate. Potter’s horrible luck. “I have a very bad feeling about it.”

“Let’s move,” agreed Terry. “Can you look around for anything weird?”

“Doing it right now.”

“So Potter says we move and we are moving?” Weasley murmured under his breath. Hadrian wanted to throttle him. “Oh, look at me, I have a bad feeling. I am a seer. Pay attention to me.”

“Ignore him, let’s go.” Terry tapped Draco on the shoulder before he opened his mouth to answer. “Last time Hadrian had a bad feeling, there was a troll in the castle, and then Smith got lost and Lockhart disappeared.”

That shut Weasley up. Anemone squeezed Hadrian’s hand again and he squeezed back. They finally started walking. A lot quicker, but Hadrian didn’t mind. His heart sped up and a feeling of dread came over him. They left two bowls with the fodder and every time they stopped, even for a little while, Hadrian had an urge to run.

“Guys, something is wrong,” he said seriously. “Do you feel it? Something is just wrong. In the clearing I had a feeling that something was watching us and I thought I imagined it but... I have a bad eyesight. I wouldn’t see masking spell from the distance, it just distorts the air. I have to be close to see what it hides.”

“And now he sees spells,” said Weasley but he sounded panicked. “It’s your imagination, that’s what it is. There is nothing here. Nothing,” he added, and from now on murmured _nothing here_ from time to time, like he was convincing himself.

Draco discreetly took his wand out and so did Terry. They were nearing the curve on the path.

“I don’t know if you are panicking and we are panicking,” Draco was clearly hysteric, “but something just moved on my left. Don’t stop walking.”

“Maybe it was a tree,” whispered Anemone. She didn’t sound convinced. “Or a squirrel, or a deer.”

Weasley sped up a little in front of them.

“I am going to look, and when I say run, drop the sacks and we are going to run. Together,” decided Hadrian. He had a very bad, _bad_ feeling. Maybe it was a centaur. There was a whole colony of them. Maybe it was just a deer or even an acromantula.

They discovered it when they were studying the notice-me-not charm and similar spells. He could see through them. Not completely, but he was good at guessing what was hidden behind them. If nothing was hidden, then he would probably just see magic anyway. When he concentrated enough, he could see a body standing out against magic in the background.

With his stomach clenching unpleasantly, he turned his head to the left slightly. Nothing. His heart pounded like it wanted to tear his ribcage apart when he looked on the left side of the path behind him.

“Run,” he said and there was something so gravely serious in his voice that no one questioned him.

They ran. Hadrian hadn’t let go of Anemone’s hand. He didn’t need it to wandlessly cast a _protego_ behind them and that easily saved their lives, when something clashed with it moments later. That maniacal laughter would be stuck in his memory forever just like the face of the man he saw on the papers often enough. He looked all types of crazy in real life and much more terrifying.

“Crouch,” he yelled. “I saw Crouch. Don’t stop running.”

Terry, in his genius, casted _protego_ before they ran into the curve. No one was there, but could be.

“Where’s Rowle?” cried Draco. The ground beside him exploded hit by a spell. “Behind the trees. We are in the open.”

Hadrian pushed Anemone behind the tree seconds before it got hit and bark went everywhere. He ducked as well, took her arm again and pulled Terry when he hesitated. It was the first time Weasley had no qualms in doing what they were doing. Draco was swearing colorfully. His hair was messed up and had leaves in it and his robe was torn. Hadrian must have looked the same, after all, the forest was thick and a lot of dry bushes had thorns.

There was a lot of yelling behind them, trees were torn by spells and Hadrian nearly lost his balance. They didn’t even know where they were running.

“ _Incendio._ Behind us,” he wheezed. They couldn’t run forever in an undefined direction. “He’s still behind us.”

“But the forest –” Anne started.

“ _Protego maxima._ Fuck the forest. There’s Crouch behind us. Anne, _point me_ Hogwarts.”

Draco quickly caught on, and Terry didn’t have any qualms about the forest either. Dry trees and bushes burned easily. Crouch couldn’t get through so easily, with the flames quickly catching on the branches nearby, creating a wall of sorts. It wasn’t perfect, but he would have to bypass it, which gave them time. Soon, even Weasley tried to help them. His wand was useless though and barely sparked any fire. Oh, Circle. Weasley’s wand was broken.

Fang barked like crazy somewhere behind them, and then howled like he got hurt. Anemone had let go of him before, and Hadrian haven’t even noticed it. Maybe it was for the better.

Anemone hurried up with the spell.

“North,” she instructed, and they ran again.

It was terrifying. His blood ran cold, and there was bile in his throat, but his mind was strangely clear. There was an urge to move, to run, to get away. It must have been pure adrenaline but he didn’t even feel tired.

The fire should alarm someone. Hogwarts had a lot of windows and the smoke was visible from afar. Surely, they would see and send someone or call the Aurors. It was the middle of the day; the sky was clear. They just had to run and put as much distance between them and Crouch as they could. The fire wouldn’t keep him away forever. It was harder to put down a fire than to light it up. Hogwarts wasn’t that far.

Then, everything happened in a flash. They were running up a small hill. Anemone stumbled and dragged Hadrian with her, causing them both to land on the ground just as a spell cut the air just above them hitting Weasley. Blood gushed to all sides. Anemone's scream drowned out the _protego maxima_ casted by Terry. The shield didn’t last, long crushed by an onslaught of spells. A very telling red spell cut through it and Draco barely dodged. Hadrian had to drag Anemone from Weasley with force because she tried to drag him with them. They slipped again on the blood, but got up in time.

_They forgot about Rowle._

Weasley hadn’t gotten up, he tried to reason with himself. He wanted them to live, so they had to move. They were against two fully trained wizards who had served some time in Azkaban among dementors, which made them unhinged and more dangerous. What were they doing in the Forbidden Forest?

He pushed Terry and Anne behind a large tree and hid with Draco behind another.

“We can’t just cast stunners,” said Draco. He was pale and looked ready to faint, but his eyes were determined. “He casted a _crucio_ and I dodged an _avada_ just now.”

Hadrian exchanged hurried glances with Terry, who was mouthing spells to Anemone. She was holding her hand to her mouth to muffle the sounds. Everything that was even mildly destructive would work. _Circle, Weasley hadn’t got up._

“Hiding, hiding, little rats! I’ll find you and I’ll have fun!” hollered Rowle. “One down I see! Not fast enough, dear!” His voice was so happy, it was nauseating. Like he was utterly enjoying himself.

They were on top of the hill, and he stood under it, so if they made a run for it, they would have a few seconds. Point me showed north-west.

He couldn’t panic. The only thing that James was good at, was teaching them how to behave if someone attacked them. He surely hadn’t meant being chased through the forbidden forest, but James thought that someone could want to abduct them or break into their house to hurt them in revenge. First rule was to not panic. Second, to run to safety and call for help. Third was to hide and aim for the vital points with spells, attack from behind. There was no honor in a fight like that.

They couldn’t help Weasley but they could help themselves.

A sickening sound echoed through the woods. The bile rose up his throat. It sounded like Rowle was breaking Weasley’s bones for fun, giggling and babbling to himself.

This time it was Draco who pulled him along and they set off on a run. Terry broke several branches as he tried to run across a fallen tree. It was loud, but despite how awful Hadrian felt about that thought, he hoped that Rowle was busy and didn’t pay any attention.

“How long to the Hogwarts?” Anemone asked running across a stream without hesitation. Water and mud splashed on them.

“I don’t know. Fuck, we’re lost,” cried Draco. “They could confuse point me. There is a spell. We can be running deeper into the forest or parallel to the forest wall.”

“We have to hide,” said Terry and Hadrian agreed, but there was nowhere to hide. The fallen trees were obvious. They were lucky that the forest was on hills, so they weren’t as visible as they would be on flat surface. “Circle, we don’t have anywhere.”

“We can’t shoot sparks because the trees are too high,” Hadrian pointed out. “Let’s run to the right. We are make it too easy by running straight.”

Draco’s hands were shaking when he pointed at the arrow in the tree.

“Centaurs.”

“They don’t hurt students. If we make enough noise, they will hear us,” said Anemone. Her words were barely understandable. They were all out of breath.

They hid behind the next tree and Hadrian looked behind them carefully. They had a moment.

“I can yell with a _sonorus,_ but Crouch and Rowle will hear us too. Where even is Crouch?” asked Terry.

“Not far,” murmured Hadrian. They forgot about Rowle once. They couldn’t forget about Crouch. Maybe Fang bit him or something? “We have to decide, because we’re either hiding or running. We can’t do both forever.”

“I’ll not die here,” said Draco. “Any unusual navigation spells?”

“I don’t play camper, you dick,” told him Terry. He looked exhausted. “We can’t stay in one place. We haven’t even run that far.”

“Fuck, quiet,” Hadrian hissed when the trunk of a large fallen tree close to them exploded to make a passage. Rowle walked through it. He looked like his photo in the papers. An unkempt beard and rags that hung on his half-starved frame. Where was Crouch? They couldn’t forget that there was two of them. “Move,” he whispered and they moved as quiet as they could between the hills and forward.

“Come out to uncle Theofin! My nice tracking charm works, you can’t hide from our fun” hollered the man. “You will play with me anyway!”

Hadrian automatically casted _finite_ on them. It probably wouldn’t work but he had to try. He casted _finite incantatem_ on Anemone because if one could be safe, then it was a plus. He didn’t see any magic disappearing from her.

Draco was swearing under breath in a high-pitched voice again. They rushed down the hill. There were more arrows on the tress, so at least they were running somewhere.

A spell hit the ground between him and Terry and a stone hit his leg. He could feel blood seeping through, but he hardly felt the pain.

“ _Confringo,_ ” Hadrian threw back a curse and he could swear that Rowle laughed. “ _Reducto, relashio.”_

Draco followed with _expulso,_ but it rebounded from a shield.

“ _Ventus!”_ yelled Terry after he found back his balance. A hurricane-like wind hurled up the hill, while they ran.

“I see huge stones. That’s border of the territory!” yelled Anemone, and they sprinted.

Hadrian conjured a thick fog after the spells nearly hit Draco and Anemone. They still ran from tree to tree, hiding behind them and running forward but now they could hardly see. It was a good thing they were so close to the stones or they would be lost.

“I will find you, you bitch! I'll put my hand in your guts!”

“Why didn’t you do it quicker?” hissed Draco, and Hadrian felt a pang of quilt. On the other side, running in the fog would be the stupidest idea they could have.

“They don’t see, but we don’t either,” he gasped. He tripped right after and had to lean against a tree.

He was too sure that the fog would hinder Rowle. Now, in addition to yelling obscenities, he was casting blind and spells flew everywhere. They were already running to the stones when a curse struck close to Anemone and Terry, exploding the ground. It was so overpowered that it sent them flying. Anemone hit the ground hard and Terry slammed into a tree. He instantly tried to get up, although it went poorly and he stumbled, cradling his arm. Hadrian’s whole attention was on Anemone, who hit her head on the root. He got to her immediately but she was disoriented and very drowsy. It took a lot from Hadrian to not panic and remember how to cast a feather-light charm properly and drag her behind the stones. He couldn’t tell how Terry and Draco got there at all. 

“My arm is broken,” Terry told them. “What even is this place?”

They were sitting in an alcove with three walls made of stone. It was deep enough to be hidden by the fog at the end, and Terry sat heavily. He was wheezing and his breathing was irregular. There were runes carved in them but Hadrian hadn’t recognized any, although it had given him an idea where they were hiding.

“Centaurian ritualistic stones. They mark territory with them, but on the west side there is a ring off them, and it’s a sacred place,” whispered Hadrian. “We are sitting in an alcove, so we’re on the west, but I don’t remember… There should be a hidden dugout with a flap.”

An idea hit him. The fog was very thick, but he had no idea how long it would hold with the tracking charm that he couldn’t cancel on them, so he started to pat around with his hand.

“Help to find it,” he told Draco, and it didn’t take long before Hadrian pulled the flap. It wasn’t a big dugout, but there was enough place for two small people. “We are putting Anne inside, Terry’s going in as well, and I am going to cast every single hiding spell I know.”

Draco didn’t argue, despite Hadrian half expecting him to request to hide him with Anne instead, and both they put her inside rather quickly. Terry needed some help getting there. Hadrian could see how pale Terry had gotten. That couldn’t be just the broken arm, because he seemed to be losing consciousness. His head was constantly falling forward like he couldn’t control it. He had hit that tree hard, and there were so many things that could go wrong after that. He could have broken his ribs, fractured something inside and could be bleeding internally. Hadrian couldn’t do anything about that. He was completely helpless and that was the worst feeling. The only thing he was able to do, was covering the wooden flap with everything that laid nearby. The wood wasn’t tied together too tightly, so there was still air. If they could hold on long enough for help to get to them, they would be fine, and if not, they would come back and find them. Hadrian clearly overpowered a masking spell, a notice-me-not and a repelling charm, but if it had a chance to work, he would take it. The spells shined bright with power when he looked at them, and he added spells on the corner alone. He felt his exhaustion, could see it on Draco’s face. He had no idea what to do now.

The yelling got closer and Hadrian was glad that Anemone didn’t hear it. His stomach turned and he shuddered from disgust when the old madman shouted foul and vulgar descriptions of how he would torture them and kill them. He must have observed them for some time, because for some reason he focused on him, Anemone and Draco, who looked green after hearing how nice he would look choking on Rowle’s dick. When Rowle was yelling how he was going to fuck him, Hadrian couldn’t help but think that he hoped he would be dead by then.

 _Fuck,_ they were going to die. Hadrian refused to accept it. He had so much to do, to prove, to learn. It couldn’t be ending now. Terry had his whole life before him. Draco too. They would be important people in the future. They had talked about their plans so many times before! And Anemone! She couldn’t die with them, in the middle of this forest. She didn’t deserve that.

Draco was shaking, all sweaty. They looked at each other and Hadrian saw the same realization. It would be either them or Rowle and Crouch.

Hadrian had never thought of killing someone before. It was something abstract, even if he knew it happened. He could rationalize it and be aware that it was their only hope of coming out alive, but he had heard of so many people that were paralyzed by fear in the face of an attack. If he stood face to face with Rowle, would he be able kill him? And how? Would he hesitate? Would Draco hesitate?

There was a rage building up in Hadrian and he was trembling.

_Deep breath._

“If he’s going to walk in here, he’s not going to watch his back if he turns to one side. I am going to run to the other alcove and when he comes in, we are going to hit him with what we have,” he whispered to Draco who seemed to barely hear him.

Hadrian felt so much rage, and was so afraid. He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to prepare to run, even if the thick fog sheltered him somehow. It was so awful, so unfair. He wanted to cry, but he had to think about Anemone and Terry. Even about Draco, who was crouched on the ground with his wand clenched tightly in his hand.

His heart pounded so loudly that he thought it was the loudest sound in the world.

He ran and immediately his body collided with someone else who had thrown themself at him. They fell to the ground, and Hadrian didn't have a moment to figure out what happened when Rowle's hands were on his neck, squeezing. His vile face was twisted in ecstasy and he was yelling in his face about how good he was going to fuck him. Something dug into his thigh.

The panic rose in seconds and Hadrian’s hands flew straight to that face, scratching, and his nails dug into the flesh. He aimed for the eyes, nose, ears. The fear was overwhelming. He was gasping for air and the hands only tightened. Rowle was too heavy for him to move. His wand was somewhere else but he didn’t even think to search for it.

He was seeing spots when the realization, that he was a wizard, came rushing, and he focused all his will into a cutting spell right at Rowle’s throat. The blood went everywhere. On Hadrian’s face, his mouth and eyes. Rowle’s hands let go of his throat, only to grasp his own, but it didn’t help. Hadrian saw everything. The happing wound, the insides of Rowle’s throat, the blood _everywhere_. Rowle spasmed violently, his head lolling to the side –

And he stilled, falling limply forward. It took all of Hadrian’s strength to hold the upper body, covered in _red_ and push him aside. He nearly vomited. Rowle was hard. Hadrian saw a tent in his trousers clearly and he didn’t want to look at it at all.

Draco dragged him across the ground to the side and covered his view so he couldn’t see Rowle anymore. He was saying something, but Hadrian had no idea what. He was busy gasping for breath. Everything was muffled and distanced, and he didn’t even know that he was swaying back and forth until Draco grasped his shoulders. Dazed, he looked to the side and there was Crouch on the ground with blood on his face.

“ _Rennervate!”_ The spell hit him and he vomited on the ground beside them. There wasn’t much in his stomach and he tasted acid. “Come on, we have to get out here. Anemone and Terry need a healer.”

“What about Crouch?” he managed to ask, letting Draco haul him to his feet. He was so, so dizzy.

He didn’t hear the answer, because it was drowned out by the deafening sound of hooves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! ;)


	6. Absit omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, spread awarenes about what's happening in Poland right now. I live here - and I am honestly scared about the future of woman's right. There are pettitions, videos available on the internet. Don't let it stay quiet!
> 
> On happier note, I present you 6th chapter! Thank you very much, Arekusandorachan, for being a wonderful beta-reader.
> 
> I'm still not fluent in English, I still don't own Harry Potter.

Nothing made sense. Hadrian wasn’t able to get a hold of himself. He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. His couldn’t _breathe._ He was dizzy. He couldn’t hear half of Draco’s conversation with the centaurs, who surrounded them. He could put together that Draco told them what had happened, that Weasley was somewhere out there and that they needed help. He felt like he should say something, but he couldn’t bring himself to utter a word.

His throat throbbed dully. It felt swollen but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his hands and check. Even swallowing saliva was uncomfortable. He was shaking violently. His clothes were soaked in blood that fell in thick drops to the forest floor. Everything clung wetly to his skin. When he looked down, his shirt sleeves were turning an odd shade of brown in the dim light. Something was trailing down his face and neck. Probably blood.

He wanted to cry.

Hadrian stood only because Draco held him to his side with stronger grip that one would expect from him. It almost hurt but Hadrian didn’t made a sound. In a weird way it was helping him ground himself. He focused on breathing. They had to think about Terry and Anne. Everything else came second.

It took a moment for Hadrian to realize Draco sounded as panicked as Hadrian felt. He was trembling, his voice was high and breaking when he described their mad dash through the forest, and he hadn’t mentioned Anemone or Terry. Making himself move was a challenge on its own. Slowly Hadrian managed to raise his hand and tugged Draco’s sleeve hard and mouthed silently _Anne and Terry_ , when he finally got his attention. That spurred the centaurs into action.

Horns rang loudly in the forest.

The next thing Hadrian remembered was Draco helping him seat next to Terry, who lied still on the ground. He couldn’t help but reach and check his pulse. He couldn’t breath until he felt it under his thumb. Anemone was laid on his right and while she wasn’t coherent, nothing seemed to be wrong with her. There was no blood, no split skin on her head and she was breathing regularly. The same couldn’t be said about Terry. No one dared to move him toward the castle, though Draco made sure that the centaurs alerted a professor. Only then did Hadrian notice that Draco was limping and the left leg of his trousers was torn and stained with blood. It looked like he was hit by something sharp or maybe a cutting curse. Hadrian thought of his own leg then, but he couldn’t bring himself to look. He was still able to walk, and really his back hurt more than his leg after he was tackled to the ground.

Draco’s eyes were set on Terry. The Forest was silent apart from the sound of hooves hitting the ground. No one was coming. Hadrian had no idea how long they sat there, but no one was coming and Terry wasn’t getting better. When he started wheezing, Hadrian moved to his knees beside Terry and started undoing the buttons of Terry’s shirt with trembling hands. It was dirtied with grass, bark and mud, but it wasn’t wet. That didn’t mean anything. Terry could still be bleeding internally, but the dry fabric that gave Hadrian a little bit of hope and calmed his panic enough to think more rationally. Terry needed him. It wasn’t time to rest or think. Terry could still die. He took a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, moving closer. Centaurs were watching from the side. They already declared that their magic couldn’t help the injured, which was making them tense Centaurs were generally prideful beings, and hated feeling helpless. As this particular herd had sworn an oath to protect Hogwarts students, they were feeling especially rankled.

They hovered over the group, agitated, and made sure the unconscious Crouch was wandless and guarded by armed centaurs at all times.

“I remember this one spell aurors use when there are wounded officers during the mission. It has different variations but what it does… Simplifying it, it puts the patient on hold. It stops bleeding and the development of curses, but heals nothing. It freezes everything and gives time, although no one should be held under it more than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t work on open wounds, so someone can still bleed out… and I am checking if… I don’t know when they will come so I am about to cast it,” Hadrian rambled. His voice was low and raspy. It broke in the middle of certain words. Talking or even whispering was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. Finally, he moved shirt out of the way and checked Terry’s torso. A livid bruise had formed over his ribs, and the area around it was swollen. Hadrian thought one or more of Terry’s ribs might be broken like his arm, though he wasn’t all too concerned about Terry’s arm in that moment.

“You are about to keel over,” Draco said in a low voice. It was true but what did it matter if he fainted? Terry had a better chance of recovering if he cast this spell.

He tried to say, “I know”, but no sound left his lips. Hadrian shrugged. He was glad that he talked Mr. Boot into teaching him the spell after he healed his cheekbone. No one could have possibly suspected it would be useful to know so soon after the incident with his father, but then again, no one could have predicted this situation either. 

His hand was shaking badly when he raised his wand, so he took a minute to calm down and focus. Circle, he could still feel Rowle’s hands on his neck. He forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no threat right now. He had to concentrate on getting them all to safety and he had to cast the spell with stable hand if he didn’t want to do more damage than good.

“ _Stagnatio_ ,” he whispered and observed the results, carefully manipulating magic to focus more on Terry’s torso than on his limbs. It seemed to work. They listened for a long moment for any changes in Terry’s breathing, but nothing did.

He was still wheezing but it wasn’t getting louder or quieter. Hadrian searched for his pulse again, just to be sure.

He really wanted for this to finally end. Mother of Magic, he needed someone who would take control.

Anemone stirred but didn’t open her eyes. Maybe it was for the best. Hadrian didn’t want his sister to see what he had done or how he looked right now. The reminder of what he had looked like at that moment made him feel sick again, but he had nothing to vomit in his stomach. His ears were ringing, and his face was cold. Hadrian counted from ten down, trying to calm his breathing.

Why wasn’t anyone coming? Surely centaurs had alarmed someone by now. Apart from being terrified, tired and shocked, he was really angry. What could possibly take so long? Hadrian wasn’t expecting aurors or St. Mungo’s staff, but surely some of teachers or Madam Pomfrey? She wasn’t a healer but first aid was something she could do as a matron.

Never in his life had he felt so helpless as in that moment, when he sat trembling, watching Terry’s chest fall and rise, looking at Anemone from time to time. He killed a man to keep them safe and it still wasn’t enough because they clearly weren’t safe. If someone didn’t take them to St. Mungo’s soon, Hadrian was ready to contact the Ministry and hospital himself.

Hadrian looked up and met Draco’s eyes, letting out a shaky breath as his own eyes filled with tears. He hadn’t counted on Draco scooting closer and he really didn’t expect the sudden surge of panic when the Slytherin reached for him. Logically he knew that his cousin only wanted offer comfort, but he couldn’t help himself. He flinched violently and moved out of the way his movements jerky and wild, which made Draco halt. Hadrian could see surprise on his face that then changed into understanding… and pity. Hadrian hated that.

Seeing Draco’s hesitation, Hadrian steeled himself and took Draco’s hand. Physical contact always made him feel better, even if it was minimal. Right now a hug would be too much. Hadrian felt awfully gross and filthy and pitiful, and even if Draco had held him to his side earlier, now he couldn’t stand the thought of it. 

They sat there in silence for a while. The forest around them was oddly calm. It seemed almost eerie in its stillness. It wasn’t that long ago that Hadrian and his friends were running wildly through it, chased by escapees from Azkaban with a vendetta they were all too willing to enact. If not for damaged trees and pieces of earth torn off and cast in random directions by spells, it would almost feel like nothing had happened at all. The mist he’d conjured had long since faded to nothing. Rowle and probably even Weasley had died, and already the world was moving on. Magic was being channeled by the trees, concentrating in places where bark was missing and sapwood or heartwood was showing, almost like it was trying to fix the damage. Hadrian wondered if it could and instantly felt guilty for wondering about such things in their situation.

A sharp, unexpected cry made Hadrian jump. His anxiety spiked immediately and his heart sped up. His first thought was that Crouch had woken up but then he recognized the voice. Remus.

Remus looked wild. This was something beyond anger and fear, raw in a way that was almost animalistic. The moment the werewolf saw Hadrian, he started to run. And that set Hadrian off completely. If it wasn’t for Draco, who moved himself in front of him, he would have cast a _protengo_ between them and the charging man in a desperate attempt to protect them all.

“He’s in shock. The blood isn’t his,” Draco answered a question that Hadrian hadn’t heard being asked.

When did McGonagall get there? She was pale like death, looking at them with horror, clearly lacking words. It seemed she’d aged at least ten years in that moment. Hadrian had little compassion for her. She was the one that sent them here.

“Where is Mr. Weasley?”

And that was what she decided to ask them, when they were covered in blood and dirt, the corpse of a rapist, pedophile and murder lying not ten meters from them, and Terry and Anne unconscious beside them?

“He was hit in the head by a spell nearer the fire. He looked dead.”

Draco’s almost made her turn green, but she didn’t run to go find the body, so maybe there were more people helping search the forest? It would be smart thing to do, although in Hogwarts people seemed to have their own mysterious way of thinking.

“St. Mungo’s,” Hadrian forced out. Sweet Mother of Magic, that hurt. More so now than it had before. “Terry. I cast _stag… natio._ His ribs. Anne. Head.”

“What happened to your throat?” There was barely controlled fury in Remus voice.

“Rowle tried to suffocate and ra – Hadrian killed him. I got Crouch,” Draco told them plainly. Hadrian was grateful Draco had stopped himself before he finished that sentence. Somehow it hadn’t quite sunk in yet that an escaped convict was about to kill and rape him, and Hadrian didn’t know that he was ready to deal with that knowledge yet or not. 

It was only then that the two professors realized that Crouch was being watched over by centaurs who were watching them with cool disdain. One of them pointed at the stones to where Rowle’s body lied out of the view.

*

What followed was disjointed series of moments Hadrian couldn’t quite make sense of. It was almost like scenes from a movie that someone had haphazardly thrown together, uncaring that scenes were cut off and missing.

He remembered them being left with Remus while McGonagall sent a Patronus to Dumbledore and, at Draco’s insistence, to the Auror Department. He remembered Dumbledore’s purple robes with clashing colorful patterns. He remembered the man trying to talk Draco out _of needlessly alarming everyone_ , and he knew that he should feel furious. Instead, he felt detached. Like he was watching everything from the outside. Draco strongly insisted his father be immediately informed.

At some point a particularly pushy auror got far too close to him, asking question after question. Draco had to tell the man to back away when Hadrian started hyperventilating, and then Tonks was beside him, not touching him but casting spells and barking orders. Someone had to pry Terry’s wrist from his hands and he vaguely heard them praise him for his quick thinking.

Finally the healers arrived. Their bright robes looked so out of place in the Forbidden Forest, blue in the middle of dull leaves and dark trees. They took care of Terry first, then Anemone. A blonde woman made her way over to him, but Hadrian had no idea what she was saying. He distinctly remembered hearing Draco’s and Tonk’s raised voices, but nothing they said made any sense. An argument broke out between the centaurs and one of the aurors.

They must have cast some spell to make him sleep because when he woke up, he was in a hospital bed. A scream ripped from his throat when he woke, startled and terrified of the unfamiliar surroundings The fear doused him in an icy wave of uncertainty and panic, and it took longer than he would have liked to admit to calm down enough to figure out where he was. A hospital, that was good.

Hadrian probed his throat with his fingers carefully. It was still swollen, but he couldn’t feel any discomfort. A pain potion then. He was more sluggish and tired than at any other point in his life. Just looking around the room from his perch on the bed was exhausting. The curtains by his bed weren’t drawn, so he had a good view of his sister. From here, it looked like she was simply sleeping. Hadrian maneuvered himself onto his arm to see the other side of the room. Two bed were lined up in a mirror image of his an Anemone’s Terry slept soundly on the one directly across from Hadrian while the other lied empty. Hadrian idly wondered as he looked around the room if it was early in the morning. He wouldn’t be surprised because he always woke few minutes before six, no matter how tired he was going to sleep.

Hadrian lied back heavily, bringing hands to his face. The nightmarish memories were sinking in, and he couldn’t help but feel completely vulnerable. He wanted to cry it out, preferably during a long shower because he still felt like he was covered in blood. It was ridiculous but it was almost like it burned itself into his skin, deep into the flesh. Shivers ran through his body.

Where was Draco? Hadrian hadn’t thought him to be badly hurt so maybe they let him go home with Lord Malfoy. Narcissa for sure alerted Andromeda, who probably contacted grandmother. If not, Hadrian was determined to imitate Draco and demand that Regent Potter had to be immediately informed. He didn’t even want to think about what a disaster talking with James will be without her. There was no chance for them to hide his wandless magic because no one would believe it to be accidental and a dark ability in James Potter’s household just wouldn’t do. Adding to that, Hadrian cast weather magic, stereotypically grey magic that required a lot of background knowledge to cast properly, which James as an Auror knew very well.

He was too tired to move properly so he just lied on his back and watched the ceiling. Their room had a window but it was covered with heavy curtains. What was the point of it when someone just turned on the light? Were the paparazzi trying to take a look? They could. Hadrian knew that the press could be very competitive and uncaring when it came to big news, and this was a huge.

Hadrian started wondering if he was so tired because of potions or because he exhausted himself magically and physically. It was astonishing that he ran such a distance without dropping to the ground when in Hogwarts he was done after few sets of stairs. He was sure that if he wasn’t on pain potions, the burn in his legs would be unearthly.

Hadrian let himself think about absolutely nothing for a few moments, but stopped himself before too long. If he continued on that path, it would be all too easy to get stuck in his own head again. Still, he had nothing to do, and he wanted to distract himself, if only for a little bit. He decided to focus on Runes and Theory. He wanted something unrelated to the events from the Forbidden Forest but his thoughts began to descend in that direction anyway. Charms, Potions, philosophy, Astronomy, his friends or Rituals… No matter what subject, it all ended up going back to the Forest They must have given him something calming because his heart rate stayed relatively normal and his anxiety didn’t spark to life as easily as it had before. He was in shock in the Forest, so they’d probably fed him a ton of it. After all people could easily get used to the dose and develop a tolerance when it came to Calming Draught, and Hadrian wasn’t a stranger to that potion even if he tried to not take it too often. Blaise was a good supplier.

He had a thought, then. Maybe it was awful of him, but Hadrian was insanely curious to see if James and Lily would come to visit him and Anne. More Lily than James because he was a Head of his department so he would want to be involved. His mother should be in Costa Rica right now, at a Convention and some award ceremony. She did discover a substitution for a nearly extinct plant, so she expected get one.

Hadrian was proud of her achievements. His mother was a genius when it came to Potions and when she’d teamed up with Snape, they managed to create five new potions in two years. She was intelligent, beautiful, had the clout that came with the Potter family name and was world renowned witch all before she hit thirty five. The downside was she was rarely there. Of course, she took part in raising Hadrian and his siblings, but there were times when she wasn’t home for six or seven months and only contacted them two or maybe three times. They were often at the Weasley’s or with Remus because James worked long hours as well but they usually did see him every day. He played with them, read them books and joked around. When she was home, Lily made a breakfast or dinner for them but then often closed herself in her little laboratory or made them breakfast, went out and came back long after they gone to sleep. She always was there on Christmas and New Year but that never compensated the tenn months she spent in Pakistan or six months in RPA. She had no idea what they liked or wanted to do, and she sometimes treated him and Anemone like Charles’ clones. Neither he or his sister liked Quiddtich, loved pranks and neither was particularly loud. Hadrian at times it felt as though whatever he was saying was going in one ear and falling out in the other. Once Hadrian was subjected to a talk about him changing his mind as quickly as a demiguise shed its fur simply because he told her that he despised red and burgundy, didn’t want his bedding in that color, especially if there were stitches on it, and didn’t want any Quidditch equipment as a present. At least she noticed he loved to read and that Anne adored baking.

Anne once told him that their mother had tried to convince her for an hour that she was fussy because she had always loved steak and pumpkin pie, and then called her spoiled when she wasn’t overjoyed about new pranks from Zonko’s. The problem was, Anemone had always hated pumpkin. She wasn’t fan of meat at all, in fact she’d stopped eating it entirely once she got to Hogwarts. She was also much more mischievous than Hadrian when she wanted to be, and could play pranks but she was simply more interested in her dolls and stuffed toys and then animals. If she didn’t become a magizoologist, Hadrian would be very surprised. She had a way with magical beasts that would be envied by many and fortunately didn’t treat them all as if they were kittens like Hagrid.

It was the small things which added with Lily not caring very much what James yelled at him. She believed that he as an Auror knew better when it came to dangerous magic just like she knew more about Potions and Healing. From time to time there would be a month or even three when she was really present in the house and around them, but in those moments Hadrian felt as if she was playing at being the perfect family, rather than trying to be a part of the family at all. She cooked, took interest in what they were doing and took them places but it only made it hurt more when she was packing her bags again.

When Anemone was nine, she got so ill they had to request an emergency visit from Healer. Anne was delirious from high fever and she barely could keep water down. It lasted three weeks, she was so thin by the end of it that everyone could see her each and every one of her ribs, and Lily sent a letter. She didn’t come back from wherever she was at that time, she didn’t even use the floo. She just wrote a letter and acted as if it was a simple cold. Maybe their father downplayed it, maybe no one told her how bad it was, but Hadrian was forced to see how weak and fragile his little sister looked and listen to her ask for their mother daily, but she _wasn’t there_.

Maybe them nearly dying would be a good moment for a visit. Maybe. Would Charles come too? They had really turbulent relationship right now. He and Anne versus James and Charles. Anemone hadn’t talked to him in a very long time, and neither had Hadrian, but this was extenuating circumstance. He thought Anne would want to know that their brother cared for her, though Hadrian wasn’t sure about his own feelings on the matter.

Remus would visit in the evenings. That was one thing he was sure about. Where Lily and James were absent, Remus filled in the role. He was almost like a foster parent or live-in nanny when they were younger. He made sure that they ate, dressed properly, got out of bed or didn’t go to sleep too late. He was always there when they needed him.

Hadrian turned his head toward the doors when he heard them open, and relaxed into the bed when he saw a healer. He was an older man with a short beard and hair streaked with gray. He looked tired, like he didn’t sleep well at night, but maybe the man was coming toward the end of a long shift.

“Excuse me?” he said in raspy voice that sounded alien to his own ears, and clearly startled the Healer, who looked at him and made his way to Hadrian’s bed in long strides.

“Healer Shafiq,” the Healer introduced himself and took his wand out. “You shouldn’t be awake for next few hours, Mr. Potter. They transported you here with a bad case of magical exhaustion. Are you feeling faint?”

“Just tired and… my throat is numb?” he croaked. “Doesn’t hurt. How are Anne and Terry?”

The healer started casting diagnostic spells, which Hadrian recognized from the time Mr. Boot casted them on him. He hadn’t answered which was irritating but Hadrian made himself wait patiently. He didn’t want to make his healer upset.

“Tiredness is expected. We administered a pain potion, a Dreamless Sleep and a lot of Calming Draught, which probably is still affecting you.” Healer Shafiq looked at him disapprovingly. “I remember Ravenclaw students living on Calming Draught but I forgot how that affected situations like this. You need a good outlet for your stress. Mr. Potter, not a cauldron of potion. And your sister… A concussion and minor cuts, nothing to worry about. Mr. Boot spent night re-growing two bones and mending three but he is stable now. His father told us you will be probably asking. Mr. Malfoy was sent home.”

Healer Shafiq looked at the results and considered them silently for a moment.

“Alright, I don’t want you standing up or walking quite yet. No magic as well. The bathroom visits are an exception but beside them, you are resting. A magical exhaustion is a serious condition. Even sitting will be tiring. You need a lot of sleep and resting. Your throat is still swollen and bruised because your magic kept fighting when we tried put anything on it, so I expect you to inform a matron when the pain potion stops working. We will give you a balm. Do you have any questions?”

“Was Regent Potter informed? The Aurors?” Damn, his voice was almost nonexistent.

“Your parents and your school. Do you wish to inform someone else? The Aurors requested a hearing but we are going to wait with it two or three days. You are getting tired as we speak, I can see that.”

“Regent Potter. She’s a head of the family. I request her presence during any hearings.” At this point he was mouthing the words more than speaking them, but it got the point across, so it wasn’t that bad.

When the Healer left, Hadrian closed his eyes again. That talk really made him feel ridiculously exhausted, even though he didn’t particularly want to sleep. Would the Dreamless Sleep they’d given him yesterday still work if he fell asleep now? He didn’t wish to test it out, and he woke up after… sixteen hours or so? He had no idea how long they were in the Forest after Hagrid left them there. Everything happened so quickly it could have been just half an hour ago for all he knew.

Hagrid. Anemone adored that half-giant, but Hadrian honestly hadn’t thought about him often as he didn’t partake in Care of Magical Creatures classes. Hagrid could be considered a friend of the family but they had little to no contact with him until they started Hogwarts, and even then Hadrian talked with him maybe three times in passing. It was Anemone who got invited for tea and could spent hours talking about beasts.

Now though, Hadrian had a lot of resentment towards him. He was aware it wasn’t all justified. Hagrid couldn’t have known that Rowle and Crouch were in the Forest and would attack them. Indeed, they didn’t encounter any magical creature. If not for the two escapees, they would made in out of the Forbidden Forest just fine, but it was the teacher's duty to ensure their safety. Hagrid on the principle shouldn’t have left them alone , he should have taken them back with Neville. No one would have gotten hurt that way.

The Malfoys will certainly try to enforce the punishment of anyone who might be held responsible in this matter. Hagrid, McGonagall, Dumbledore… Out of all of them, only Hagrid wouldn’t be able to get away completely free, even if he had the Headmaster behind his back. Lucius Malfoy held a lot of sway in the Wizengamot and in the Ministry, and he had powerful allies. Even the Minister would probably back up his call for a trial, and personally Hadrian felt that Hagrid should be held responsible for leaving them in the Forest. He wondered how it would sit with Anemone. Although she wasn’t happy about Hagrid coming back to the castle just with Neville, him being tried in front of a court was a completely different thing. Hagrid would at least lose his teaching post, maybe be removed from Hogwarts and at worst he may be sentenced to some time in Azkaban. Hadrian didn’t think that Azkaban would be necessary, but Malfoys were very protective and vindictive, so they would be out for blood.

The door opened again some time later, and when Hadrian looked, he was met with a warm smile on Mr. Boot’s concerned face.

“I heard you woke up early. How are you feeling?” he asked, coming closer. He looked in on Terry briefly, but Terry was still asleep.

“Tired,” Hadrian said. “I can still feel the potions they gave me.”

“It was a pretty big dose,” Mr. Jeremiah admitted sympathetically. “You were in shock from the trauma and the magical exhaustion. I heard from Healer Bell that they had to stun you before they could transport you because your magic started lashing out. Especially when an auror wanted to touch you.”

“I remember that. It was awful and I could barely stand Draco holding my hand, and then the Auror was just right there all of a sudden and I panicked –“ Hadrian interrupted himself when his voice broke, and he had to cough. His mouth was like a desert and he was finding it more and more difficult to speak, even if the first sentence had sounded almost ordinary.

“It was a normal reaction,” ensured him the Healer while transfiguring the glass and filling it with water. “You need to sit if you want water. Come on, I’ll help you.”

The spark of fear Hadrian felt when Mr. Jeremiah reached for his shoulder to help him up was irrational and completely terrifying, especially because Calming Draught was still working. The Healer had barely touched him when Hadrian flinched and moved away, his breath quickening. If it shocked Terry’s father, he didn’t show it. Instead, he moved away calmly and stretched out his hand. Hadrian took a minute before he accepted it and let Mr. Jeremiah pull him up that way. It was much better.

Hadrian had no idea what to say, so he focused on his glass of water. Another thing that could be added to his weirdness. Great.

“Hadrian, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You went through a traumatic experience and barely made it out alive. It’s normal to be scared. You are anxious. It’s still new in your mind. The aurors barely told us anything, but I know it had to be terrifying.”

“I killed Rowle,” Hadrian said plainly, looking right at Mr. Jeremiah. “He nearly killed Anne and Terry. Draco and I hid them but Rowle was still outside of the centaurian ritualistic circle and he was yelling about – And how he would – I knew it would be us or them. Rowle surprised me. I killed him when he was strangling me. I thought I will die. I cut his head off. I can still see it.” He had no idea what he wanted to achieve telling Mr. Boot all of it but it was like he couldn’t stop talking. It didn’t matter that his voice was rough and horribly hoarse, so low it was ridiculous, or that he had to whisper. He couldn’t stop the words even if he tried. “And then I wanted it all to end so badly but no one was coming to help us. Anne was unconscious. Terry was too and his breathing was getting all weird. I managed to cast _stagnatio_ on Terry and we still waited so long. And you know who came? Remus and McGonagall. No healers, no Aurors. I set fire to the Forest. Terry with Draco helped me to make a wall from it to separate us from Crouch. They had to have seen the smoke. We forgot about Rowle, in the beginning. Rowle hit Weasley with something. We were slipping on blood. I had to pull Anne away with force. Draco was screaming at McGonagall to inform Healers and Ministry.” By the end, some words came out nearly silent or his voice just broke in the middle of them.

The empty glass was taken from him. He hadn’t noticed when he started to sway back and forth or crying.

“Let it out, don’t hold yourself back. Cry it all out. You did all you could and more. You saved my son and your sister. You defended yourself. I would like to hold your hand if that is alright?”

Hadrian couldn’t answer but nodded. He was grateful for Mr. Jeremiah’s calm words and assurance because they grounded him nicely, even if they changed nothing.

He knew that it was self defense, Hadrian wouldn’t dare to deny it. But that didn't diminish the terror he’d felt and it was strangely freeing to let it all out. He was so scared but he hadn’t cried the whole time in the forest nor later when they were waiting for help. He was terrified when Rowle threw him on the ground, and almost paralyzed with fear when he saw how his spell was cutting through Rowle’s throat.

“Breath, Hadrian, we can’t give you more Calming Draught. Slowly, with me.”

Hadrian focused on following instructions, and slowly he got his breathing under control. It was a long process because he broke into tears two more time and then at the end, the fatigue hit him like a bludger. Exhausted. He was simply exhausted, and he had to lie down before everything started spinning in his head.

They sat together in silence for a long while.

“Your _stagnatio_ saved my son,” Mr. Jeremiah said, his voice gentle and sincere. “Really. There was an internal bleeding and one of the ribs almost punctured the lung. My wife and I will be forever thankful, you know. You are like a second son, so we are so happy that you came out alive. We would never hold against you what you had to do.”

It was heartwarming and absolutely disarming to hear something like that, and from a non-relative as well. Mr. and Mrs. Boot might like him, but they were his best friend’s parents. They didn’t owe him any affection or warm feelings and yet Hadrian had never felt so accepted.

“Weasley?” he mouthed.

“It has been already in the news. He’s in critical condition. He lost an ear. The spell cut it off completely. He had several broken bones and lost tremendous amount of blood. No one knows if he ever would regain full functionality of his left hand. The spell damage specialists are working on him. It seemed like Crouch didn’t pay him much attention and run after you. About the hearing and aurors… We decided it would be the best if we waited a few days. They want a hearing because Crouch would be tired and probably sentenced to a Dementor Kiss, and they want to know what exactly had happened.”

“My grandmother has to be present during a hearing,” Hadrian whispered to him. “I used a lot of magic that’s not approved by James. I don’t want to go back home. Grandmother won’t make me go there. We reconciled.” His voice broke at the end again. It was really annoying.

“Last time I heard you weren’t talking.”

Hadrian debated shortly with himself how much he could tell Mr. Boot. His throat was starting to hurt, and his voice was even raspier and lower than when he woke up, but Terry’s father had to know something if he was going to help Hadrian. They talked about it in the summer and during last Yule break. They couldn’t work with nothing and Hadrian’s tendency to keep everything to himself was, in this case, harmful. Mr. Boot and Lord Goldstein already knew so much about him that he wasn’t afraid to tell them more. Maybe it was foolish to place his trust in them, but they hadn’t failed him in any way so far. No one spoke about his broken cheekbone, no one spoke about his wandless magic and new theory, and no one he hadn’t told himself knew about his bad relations with his family.

“It’s safe to speak here?” he asked, and when Mr. Jeremiah confirmed he started talking, taking short pauses between sentences. “Family matters. It’s new and it’s a long story. Short version is – I always wondered about my looks. I discovered it was because of a messed up godfather ritual. I have three parents. I know because of –” He had to take a longer pause, turn to his side, rise a bit and drink some water to soothe his throat. “My spacing out. It’s the Isolation Curse. Black family main line. It was getting worse, so Andromeda suggested Regulus. Grandmother was with them. Remus and the boys know too and that’s it. If someone suspects, they don’t have any confirmation. I’m keeping it quiet.”

“That explains everything,” mused Mr. Jeremiah. And it indeed explained everything that was happening to Hadrian, although it wasn’t an explanation he wished for. In an ideal world, it would be less problematic.

They talked for a while, or rather Mr. Jeremiah did, until he had to go. After all, he visited right before his work hours, but he promised to come back when Terry woke up. Hadrian’s eyes were literally dropping when he was left alone, so he closed them and lied back more comfortably. He didn’t plan on falling asleep but he was fast asleep just moments later. He thought he had heard his sister talking to a woman in his dream but he had a hard time paying attention to it. The warmth of the comfortable bed drove him into a deeper sleep immediately and he didn't try hard to fight it, especially since he dreamt of nothing at all. Just a peaceful nothingness. He never in his life slept so long but his body needed it badly. It was nice to feel nothing for a while.

The next time when he woke up, he heard talking, and easily recognized Remus and Anemone. They weren’t loud but the room was otherwise silent, so Hadrian could hear everything. Not that they were talking about something interesting. Remus was telling Anemone the same things that Healer Shafiq told him. Either he didn’t know or wasn’t willing to share more, like Mr. Jeremiah.

Hadrian had no idea if he wanted talk with Remus. Suddenly, he was uncertain that Anemone would treat him as before. Of course, she didn’t witness the worst but she must have heard by now that Rowle was dead and Hadrian knew she was smart enough to put two and two together. She was quick in situations like that, she had a rather analytical mind. Would she be afraid of him? In the end, he could live with James, Lily and Remus thinking he did something awful, but his sister was precious to him.

He was laying with his back to them, which he immediately found uncomfortable. He hated not seeing what was happening, even though he couldn't sleep on his back. In his dorm room it wasn’t a problem, because he was so used to Terry that they walked around each other barely dressed after shower. Terry could be practicing spells behind his back and Hadrian wouldn’t care. But this hospital room was completely different. Especially after the Forest.

He decided to pretend he was still asleep, but Remus didn't seem to have the slightest intention of leaving. He had already started telling about the various stories that had happened in his class, then moved into speaking about his plans and what lessons each would work on next. Anemone seemed to be engaged in conversation but that wasn’t a surprise. They mostly talked about magical beasts this year in her class. Then the topic changed subtly. Unexpectedly, Remus began to ask questions about what Anne was learning from the study group when he spoke about his future schedule. It seemed logical, but Hadrian could see the undertone. Were they studying something they shouldn’t? Hadrian felt oddly betrayed. He was aware that Remus was strictly on Dumbledore’s side of the dispute and would be against many things that Hadrian studied, but he was asking about it literally behind his back… It felt awful. Of course Hadrian wouldn’t tell him that if he asked. He wasn’t stupid. And Remus probably thought it was for the best and that, by asking, it showed he cared. Hadrian couldn’t fault him for that. His ignorance about magic and its restriction though, that was maddening.

But didn’t Remus trust him? That thought was almost hypocritical coming from him, but Hadrian did trust Remus. Just not with everything.

Remus often forgot that Anemone was raised by James and could be much more perceptive to things that could get her in trouble. She wasn’t a stranger to careful questioning and subtle inquiries. She could spot them just fine and she wasn’t talking. Her answers were very general and she was careful not to confirm anything. Hadrian was proud. She wasn’t participating that often because they were talking mainly about their classes. She was bored and didn’t pay attention. Daphne was talking with her about cosmetic charms. They were helping her with homework. It wasn’t a lie but no one forbade Anemone from listening and there often were strange spells or curses thrown into mix. They taught her so many hexes that no one dared to bother her. If she wanted to, she could dig a deep grave for him.

His throat and mouth were dry again, and his thoughts turned immediately to the glass of water. He would have to turn around to drink, which would give a clear signal again that he was awake and he could hear most of the conversation, so he decided to wait a moment.

The topic changed again to how long they are going to be staying in St. Mungo’s, and Remus told Anemone that she will be probably discharged from hospital the quickest. Hadrian had no idea that his magical exhaustion was more serious than Terry’s ribs, which were already mended and the only thing that stayed was the bruise on his side. Even if they could go home, Hadrian would be instructed to take it easy and rest a lot. That meant they wouldn’t let him go to Hogwarts just yet. Their grandmother _had_ to get control over situation.

Finally, when he realized nothing more was likely to be said, he rolled to his back carefully, and then to his other side. His whole body felt sore.

Remus turned to him immediately, but before he could say anything, Hadrian asked for water in a very hoarse voice. He hadn't expected it to sound that bad.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asked as he conjured water. He looked torn about helping Hadrian to sit, clearly remembering how he flinched from him in the Forest, so Hadrian spared them an uncomfortable and unwanted conversation, pushing himself up with his elbow and accepting the glass. The water was cool and fresh, as it always was when conjured properly, and felt wonderful on his sore throat.

“Tired,” he answered, giving back the empty glass.

Anemone was already out of her bed and Hadrian shuffled back a bit, making space for her on the edge of the bed. She sat there without hesitation. Words weren’t needed for Hadrian to see that she was worried about everything and had no idea what they are going to do.

“I woke up twice earlierbut you were asleep. Mr. Boot came to visit,” he told her quietly. Hoarseness made his voice sound much lower and crack uncomfortably, but it wasn’t different from his talk with Mr. Jeremiah. “We are all fine.”

“Remus told me that the uurors are putting evidence together for a hearing, but they are going to wait for the Healers to agree to it. What then? Are we going back to Hogwarts?”

“The healers aren’t sure. They would prefer Hadrian to rest more since Hogwarts has multiple floors and is a large castle,” Remus said, and Hadrian could pinpoint the moment that Anemone realized what that meant.

“I told them to contact grandmother,” he announced and both Anemone and Remus looked at him surprised. “We spoke recently. I was going to tell you, but something came up. She will be at the hearings but it’s a secret.”

Maybe it was a petty thing to do, but since Remus swore to not reveal any of Hadrian’s secrets in his oath, he couldn’t talk about anything that Hadrian deemed a secret. Exactly for that reason wizards cared about exact wording because the more serious oaths could lead to many complications and even endanger a life. This was small one, but it opened a door to ensuring Remus’ silence in everything Hadrian wanted. The werewolf had lived his whole life in the wizarding world, so he should have known and chosen his oath more carefully than he had. If he didn’t like the repercussions, that was his own fault.

“I know that it’s your grandmother, but your father won’t be happy about you talking with her or inviting her –”

“Would she take us in?” Anemone interrupted Remus, practically bouncing on the bed “I love Andromeda but she has a small house, Tonks makes so much noise and I don’t think Mr. Tonks wants me in his house all that much.”

“I will ensure that,” he promised. That was his goal. He doubted that their grandmother would refuse to let them live with her.

“I know you would like to see her but your father wouldn’t consent to it,” Remus told them firmly in that patronizing way Hadrian hated. They weren’t five and asking for a pet dragon. They treated him with respect, and he should do the same. “Do I need to call a healer? The matron wanted to know when your pain potion stops working.”

“Not yet.” That was one thing that Hadrian couldn’t comprehend. Remus was a half-blood raised in magical world since his birth. Lupin’s weren’t an ancient family or even a particularly large one, but they were present long enough to be recognizable. Despite it, Remus always demonstrated a ridiculous ignorance about laws or tradition, that didn’t concern werewolves or affect his life. His father’s life wasn’t dictated by Remus’ grandfather and there was no Head of the Family. He seemed to think that there was no real threat, and if someone did follow their Head instructions, it was caused by years of brainwashing and indoctrination. It didn't help that the only scions of noble families he had around were Sirius, James and Andromeda. Weasleys’were completely informal, so Hadrian didn’t count them. Andromeda was disinherited, so she could do whatever she pleased, but legally she didn’t count as a Black. Also she wasn’t born into a main line, which meant that consequences of any rebellion against the Blacks were vastly different than if Regulus or Sirius had done so. Sirius was in line to inherit a title, a _successor-_ Heir, and it seemed like he was doing what he wanted to do, but the truth was that Lord Black hadn’t decided to order anything of him yet. He could marry him to some witch or wizard Sirius had never met, or order him to move back in with his mother, even if Walburgia wanted nothing to do with him. The parents’ wishes didn’t matter if Lord or Lady of the Family ordered something. The Potter family was much more relaxed. His grandmother had never ordered anyone as a Lady of the House and Regent Potter, and his grandfather probably never done it either. The laws still stood strong though, and could be enforced by a court or Wizengamot in some cases. If Lord Arcturus Black wished for it, he could have Sirius completely cut off from family and even forbid him from using the Black name. That would invalidate his exams and everything he had ever signed. That would be made worse that pettiness and viciousness of Walburgia Black, who could make Sirius’ life harder using bribes and gossip. “Was anyone else here?”

Anne shook her head. So, no James, no Lily, only Remus. The Auror Force was probably in an uproar, so as Head Auror James would be buried in work and political fallout. That could excuse a lot but their mother? Anemone didn’t look to be sad now, but during school year she was noticeably upset about decreasing contact. Maybe she was under the impression that no one could order an international portkey that quickly?

“But the house elves left your post on the bed table. I got cards and candies from my friends. We can’t reply though, because the elves can’t send anything back.”

“Mr. Boot would be able to send something for us.” Hadrian was sure that Anthony and Michael were worried sick about them, and Mr. Boot wouldn’t see anything wrong with sending them a letter. Maybe they would be able to visit if Lord Goldstein took them from the castle in the evening? It didn't seem very likely, as Hadrian remembered perfectly well fifth year Ravenclaw that had been refused a visit to his sick mother when her condition suddenly worsened while school was in session.

“I could send it too,” offered Remus but at this point Hadrian wouldn’t trust him not to read their mail beforehand. James and Lily did it, and if Remus had doubts about what kind of magic Hadrian was using, then he could think it would be a way to find out without confronting Hadrian openly. “Do you want to see what were sent to you?”

Hadrian nodded. “I need to sit. Anne, pull me up? Remus, can you pile pillows or raise the bed so I can lay back?”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but Hadrian managed to sit with his back propped by the two big pillows that Remus had enlarged for him. They were able to rise the head of the bed a bit, which was awesome. If Hadrian wanted, he could even sleep like this.

Remus deposited few letters and two packages in the size of book on his lap. Who had sent him books? He reached for the first letter and saw that it was from Anthony, which meant that he wrote it with Michael, as, after quick sorting, he couldn’t find a separate letter from him. Lord and Lady Malfoy also wrote to him but more surprisingly, so did Blaise. His letter was stuck to the first package. If someone wrote a message with the second, it would be inside, so Hadrian had to wait a bit. The fifth letter was from Sirius, the sixth from grandmother, and the last one came from Andromeda. There was a lot of people who had written to him, and none of them would be considered close family. Maybe a family of choice and friends if Hadrian wanted to think about it like that, but Charles hadn’t bothered, and if Anthony, Michael and Blaise knew, he ought to know too. Hadrian would bet it was number one gossip in Hogwarts or maybe in the whole of Great Britain. It wasn’t a quiet case from the start and attacking Hogwarts students ought to be a scandal.

Anthony and Michael were clearly worried and didn’t know what exactly had happened. Dumbledore said close to nothing and the papers were relatively quiet with Rita Skeeter writing surprisingly tasteful articles more aimed at the Ministry than at the current mystery of Rowle’s death. Hagrid had disappeared from teacher’s table and there was a substitute in a form of bubbly witch with a French accent and skin and eyes so dark it reminded Michael of dark chocolate. Anthony insisted that he hadn’t seen that pathetic of a crush on a teacher in a long while. They hoped to hear from him soon and enquired about visiting if he’s going to be kept longer in bed. Supposedly all of Ravenclaw wished him well and the study group missed him and Terry greatly.

Malfoy’s letter screamed business, so Hadrian chosen to read Blaise’s first. It was really sweet and he’d sent him a book he promised to help him find a long time ago. It came recommended by his mother, which was amazing considering she was highly magic sensitive herself. The downside was it was in Italian, so Blaise commissioned to have it professionally translated. Hadrian at first wanted to know how much he had to pay him back but then Blaise started talking and Hadrian came to realization that he was friends with ridiculously rich people. Blaise insisted he had casual robes more expensive than that translation. In his letter he reminded Hadrian to treat it as a get well present. It was clear he had no idea about the extent of his injuries but suspected they had to be somewhat serious. Hadrian would have remember to get him something good for his birthday or Yule. Blaise’s letter was also more informative about the rumors ciercling through the school. The youngest Weasley was insisting they had tried to murder her brother by leaving him alone and was calling them all killers. It didn’t hurt Hadrian or make him sad, although it made him think why it was always younger Weasleys. There was a lot speculations in the castle and bets but overall people were behaving like normal when it came to scandals or mystery.

Sirius’ letter was clearly written before Sunday, as it was a standard one talking about his mission in Romania, but his grandmother knew what was happening very well. She was informed by Narcissa as Hadrian predicted, but by now she had been contacted by St. Mungo’s, which gave her access to information about his health. She would be visiting this afternoon around five. Andromeda was informed by Tonks and then her husband. She was going to visit as well, although she hadn’t specified when. In the endit didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere.

“Who wrote you?” Anemone had given him a few minutes to read by chatting with Remus, but she couldn’t wait any longer to ask.

“Anthony and Michael, Blaise, Andy, grandmother and Sirius, although it was his standard monthly letter. It had to be delivered here instead of Hogwarts. He wrote about Romania.”

“He wrote to me too!”

“Who’s Blaise?” Remus asked.

“Blaise Zabini. He’s really nice,” Anemone answered for him and Hadrian could see that Remus didn’t like hearing that name at all. He didn’t comment, far too used to seeing Hadrian in the company of Slytherins, but he didn’t like it.

“Lord and Lady Malfoy wrote to me as well. I haven’t got to the second package yet.”

“Malfoy? What would they want?”

Hadrian had no idea why Remus sounded so alarmed by the Malfoys sending him a letter.

“Well, Draco was with us. It’s probably a get well card or a notice that they are going to take a legal action against Hogwarts,” Hadrian told him and shrugged. He wasn’t going to tell Remus he was more familiar with Narcissa. And nothing in the world could convince him to tell the werewolf he told Malfoy family about the loophole with the _imperius_ curse.

“You shouldn’t be in contact with that family,” Remus said thightly .

“But why?” Anemone asked. They hadn’t gotten any new information about that mysterious meetings, so they’d started teasing Remus or Tonks into saying more. All too often, though, they heard nothing more specific than _it’s dangerous_ or _you are too young_. Tonks was more gullible one, so she once told Anemone that _it’s getting more dangerous and dark times are coming._ Honestly, that sounded like a line from a very old story, that was meant to teach morals and prevent children from jumping into swamps or walking into old homes by scaring them. It was ridiculous.

“They’re dangerous people. Lucius Malfoy is a very powerful and ruthless man.”

Honestly, who in Wizengamot or high in the societal hierarchy wasn’t powerful, dangerous and ruthless? No one. Hadrian had no illusions that all of them took advantage of one another, manipulated each other, or kicked up a proverbial storm daily. And it wasn’t like Hadrian was forming any alliances or promising anything. He just knew Narcissa and was friends with Draco, which at the end of the day was useful. He liked Draco more that he liked his own brother, which said something.

“I still want to know what it is,” Hadrian said and tore into the envelope, pulling out the letter from inside.

“They’re just going to use you to weaken Dumbledore position at Hogwarts. They want a trial for Hagrid!”

“Remus, I am not against it.” Hadrian was sure about it. This whole situation wasn’t a simple mistake or an accident in the class. They could have died. In fact, they nearly did. “Hagrid was recklessly irresponsible. He shouldn’t have leave us in the forest alone. And a detention in the Forbidden Forest? It had to be accepted by McGonagall, and I doubt it was her idea.”

“Hagrid has to report everything straight to Dumbledore. He told me he was the first person who knew about hurt unicorns,” Anne joined in. She looked sad about it. “I don’t think it was right either. I like Hagrid but – I was afraid when he left us. We asked him to go back with him.”

“And Dumbledore was trying to delay informing Ministry and Healers. I heard him and Draco,” Hadrian added.

Remus had an odd expression on his face. He was clearly torn about something and a bit mad, but Hadrian wasn’t about to change his opinion.

“He had to have his reasons,” the werewolf said with finality in his voice.

Hadrian shrugged and read his letter. It was clearly written by Narcissa, who in the first paragraph thanked him for saving Draco, offered her support and wished him well. She also suggested a Mind Healer because of how shaken Draco was and the nightmares that plagued him every time he closed eyes. It wasn’t something that would be written to a stranger or simple acquaintance, which in and of itself spoke volumes. Why did Narcissa write like she cared about his health and life? It was almost like she thought of him as a family member of sorts, but Hadrian wasn’t sure if he bought it.

They were suing. Hadrian wasn’t mistaken in his guesses, and he wasn’t surprised when he read they wanted him to testify against Crouch and against Hagrid and Hogwarts. They wanted him to convince Anemone to give her own testimony. The more evidence the better.

Remus looked like he wanted to reach for the letter, so Hadrian folded it and put back in the envelope. Then he finally paid attention to the last package. Beneath the paper was a flat box with a letter perched on top. Hadrian opened it and looked at the signature first. His expression must have been comical, because Anemone immediately asked who it was from.

“Granger. I though she hated me,” he blurted out. Why would _Rabastian Lestrange_ send him a gift? They danced one time and talked for maybe half an hour nearly half a year ago. He couldn’t open it here now. What if it was a jewelry? He had no idea how he would explain it. Hadrian really hoped it was something else. He’d seen expensive bookstores packaging their books into boxes and tailors used them too. “I’ll see the books later. I’m tired but if I see something interesting, I won’t put it down until I read it,” he explained. It was partially true.

“Your mother is exactly the same,” Remus said. Hadrian didn’t manage to sound completely normal but having heard it was from a muggleborn girl had to easy Remus worries. He smiled somewhat teasingly and let it go. Hadrian hoped he hadn’t thought he had a crush on her, although it would be a great cover for now.

Hadrian coughed and cringed at the feeling of sandpaper, or maybe glass, coating his throat.

“I’ll go tell the matron,” Remus smiled at him sympathetically, and Hadrian nodded. A balm or a salve would be nice. During their talk he could feel the pain potion wearing off entirely.

Anne helped him put everything back on the bed table. Her eyes darted up to Hadrian's neck every now and then, as if she had just noticed the bruises. Hadrian knew she’d seen them before, but maybe not from this close. They were bound to be terrifying.

“Does it look bad?” he asked.

“Not that bad. It’s just – It’s shaped like someone hold you down and tried to strangle you,” she admitted. She had tears in her eyes when she was telling him that, and he reached to held her. Hadrian had no idea if it was because she was a girl or his sister, but his heart didn’t jump and he wasn’t afraid when she hugged him.

“Rowle tried,” he told her. Had no one thought to explain it to her gently? She obviously heard about Rowle being dead but… Hadrian hated it so much.

“I heard him screaming those awful things. I was so scared and I couldn’t wake up,” she said tearfully. Hadrian had no idea if she actually remembered the screams when she was heavily concussed or if she dreamed them, but he was furious it happened.

“We’re fine. Rowle’s gone.” Crouch wasn’t but Hadrian doubted they would let him escape again. It would be an incompetence of the highest sort, and heads would roll.

“I don’t know what we are going to do.”

“We’ll talk about it later. I’ve got it.”

She looked at him with such trusting eyes. Hadrian was always sure he would never leave her behind for any reason like Charles left them long ago. Her trust in him was priceless and so very precious. He would do his best to never let her down, and if she wanted to stick with him after all of it, he would ensure that grandmother would take in both of them. Andromeda was wonderful but she had a small house and if Mr. Tonks was uncomfortable with Anemone living with them, he wouldn’t force her to stay there.

“Grandma’s going to visit,” he whispered. It was easier on his throat, why he hadn’t thought to do it before, he’d never know. “Around five.”

That managed to brighten up the mood instantly. Hadrian never shared with Anemone that he had written to Dorea Black in previous year or that she ignored his letter. She only knew that their grandmother and James had falling out when she was younger, so she couldn’t write to or speak to them. It wasn’t as hard on her when this first happened, Anne had been young enough at the time that she barely remembered their grandmother, so the visit today would feel more like an introduction than reunion.

Terry woke up around two that afternoon, a little over half an hour after Remus left. He was disoriented and sore, and he tried to sit up right away, which wasn’t a good idea. They had to tell him what had happened, and Anemone left to find the matron once they’d finished. The sour woman followed Anne back to the room, and was joined shortly after by Mr. Boot – after he had fire called his wife, of course. Terry was swarmed with attention, which, he was happy to note, produced plenty of blackmail material for future use.

Hadrian felt somewhat weird for laughing quietly at Terry’s red face. Mrs. Boot was an incredibly busy woman, like Lily but, she balanced everything well. Her brown eyes were kind despite tired bags beneath them and she looked like she had been relaxing after a long shift. She rushed into the room in sweatpants, a large knitted sweater and random shoes and she’d thrown her waist long hair in a long ponytail, which sat low at the back of her head. It was easy to see she was worried sick when she ran in, but she calmed down considerably when it was clear that Terry was fine and was having no complications.

When he first met the couple, Hadrian thought it was a bit odd that Mrs. Boot was noticeably older than Mr. Jeremiah, who in addition to actually being younger, looked younger than he should as well. From what he was told, there was a ten year gap between them and they met when Mr. Jeremiah was a training to be a healer and Mrs. Boot was already a fully fledged healer. Their relationship was a scandal at the time, but Hadrian never saw a couple more in love than them. It was almost sickening. They fit together wonderfully and worked as a well-oiled machine. Hadrian couldn’t imagine them not being married to each other.

As soon as she was finished fussing over Terry, Mrs. Boot, or Aunt Veronica like she instructed them to call her, descended upon them and produced two huge blankets from her large purse, similar to the one she brought for Terry _just in case, it gets a bit nippy here at night_. She also brought Hadrian box of chamomile tea and a mug because she had heard about his throat. Anemone had her charmed in a moment, and soon both Anemone and Hadrian had a box of biscuits to share between them.

The Boots left after an hour or so, and Hadrian could finally fill Anemone in everything. He told her about Sirius and the godfather ritual, about the Isolation Curse and reconciling with their grandmother. Anemone knew him well, so she wasn’t mad about him telling her now and not as soon as he found out. He had to digest some things himself first and then share. Hadrian told her what he planned and what would probably happen: James was going to found out he could cast wandless magic to certain extent and practiced a lot of magic he never approved of. Their father would be furious and they would be adding to that contacting their grandmother and clearly asking her to take them in.

“Would you teach me wandless magic?” she asked in the end. Hadrian had offered to teach her before, but she wasn’t particularly interested when he told her how much work the others had to put into it. Maybe Sunday’s events had taught her it was dead useful to be able use magic if someone stripped her of her wand or it got snapped.

“We can get into it after this disaster,” he agreed. He could always use her example in his work as another half-blood. It would be wonderful if they could find a trustworthy muggleborn student to teach and at least one adult. Lord Goldstein started to train himself after Hadrian got him a copy of his notes, and although he clearly hadn’t focused on it during all of his free time, he put fair amount of work and Hadrian was convinced that soon enough he would suceed at casting a spell wandlessly.

He actually hadn't expected to get so much information from Mr. Jonathan’s notes. When he was teaching his friends, they wrote down steps and Hadrian wrote a lot of observations in his notebook, but seeing someone pointing out what was problematic, hard, or explained deeply enough gave him a lot of insight. Especially when it was someone well versed in magic. He suspected that working with a muggleborn would come with its own set of challenges.

Weirdly enough, he couldn’t wait.

“Did Hadrian tell you that Granger wrote to him?” Anne asked Terry with glee, and Hadrian almost choked on the water he was drinking.

“Granger?!”

“It wasn’t her,” Hadrian was quick to defend himself. “I just said it because Remus was near. Mother of Magic, she hates me with passion after that whole Ancient Runes thing. I looked at the signature. He couldn’t know.”

“Who was it?” Terry asked. He looked like he was putting together a list of people that could send him something.

“Rabastian Lestrange,” Hadrian murmured almost inaudibly, but they definitely heard him because Terry inhaled air sharply and Anemone squeaked.

There was a lot of _why would he_ and _what he had sent_ , but Hadrian couldn’t answer those without reading the letter and seeing what was in the box first. Anemone quickly slipped out of her bed to get it, then sat on the edge of his bed so she could see. Terry would have done it as well if he’d felt better.

“I will laugh if he declares the intent to propose a contract in the future,” Terry teased but to Hadrian it was a scary possibility. Rabastian Lestrange was nineteen years older than him. In wizarding world that didn’t count as a big age gap, Padma Patil was to marry a man nearly twenty years older after graduation from Hogwarts after all. In terms of their long lives and according to their culture, that was quite normal, and a lot of families saw an age gap as a bigger chance of stability. For Hadrian, it was too much. Rabastian hadn’t talked to him like to a child but the difference in age was noticeable. He was a thirty-something year old adult while Hadrian was in his early teens. Nineteen years was a lot of life experience. Hadrian could understand why people seemed to find that appealing, but he preferred to stand on even ground.

Hadrian opened the box first and breathed a sigh of relief when he only saw a book. It was an absurdly pricey edition edition - a leather sleeve, gold adornments, encased in a sinfully soft material that cushioned the tome – beautiful and luxurious like most of the gifts that purebloods exchanged between themselves. Hadrian had never been poor, and the Potters were considered a wealthy family, but then there were families like the Zabinis and the Lestranges who gave “wealthy” a whole new meaning.

He carefully pulled it out of the box. _Old Magic and Rituals, Theoretical Commentary_ by Apollinaire de Foix. He couldn’t help but stare at the title. It was one of the rarest books on theory of magic. Mainly because the writer was known to possess magical sensitivity and relied on it a lot in his studies. Only a small number of copies were published, and the book was mentioned in of many other academic writings.

“What is it?” Terry was curious.

He tried to move to see the gift from his bed, but it wasn’t possible from the position he was in. Hadrian put the book inside the box and gave it to Anemone to show Terry. As she did, Hadrian unfolded the letter and started reading.

_Hadrian Potter of the Noble House Potter,_

_According to tradition and custom, I ask that you accept this gift in recompense for bloodshed and shielding from the common enemy of the Ancient and Noble House of Lestrange through the Bonds of the Godfather with the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy._

_For the shield offered selflessly, my shield will be waiting._

_For the bloodshed of your blood, my wand won’t hesitate._

_Accept my gratitude and wishes for swift recovery._

_Rabastian Lestrange of the Ancient and Noble House of Lestrange_

That wasn’t bad. It wasn’t something Hadrian expected but it was something he could deal with as a consequence of being attacked by Rowle and Crouch. So Rabastian was Draco’s godfather? That only made Hadrian hope all the more that Lestrange hadn’t considered him an option for marriage.

Terry, of course, teased him even after Hadrian told him what was in the letter, and Anne joined in for a moment, which he generously ignored, only raising an eyebrow at them. And then he realized – not only was Rabastian Draco’s godfather, but Rabastian’s brother was married to Hadrian’s first cousin once removed, and Bellatrix looked very similar to Hadrian. The more Hadrian thought about this, the more uncomfortable and just plainly _wrong_ it sounded even in his head.

*

They couldn’t keep him on Calming Draught forever, especially when it took three and a half vials for it to make difference, but Hadrian was glad they were still giving him some. Waiting for the hearing was nerve wracking, and he could see himself shaking incessantly and sicking up in the bathroom were it not for the potion. The artificial calm hadn’t stopped the trembling in his hands, but it made everything easier to seal with. The knowledge that his grandmother would soon be present also helped, as that guaranteed some kind of shield against James who would be present as well.

He was going to be questioned by Tonks and other female auror he didn’t know. It was apparently a standard procedure to choose an auror of the opposite gender of the offender when the crime involved sexual assault. Hearing that made bile rise in his throat. He was aware that he’d been sexually assaulted, but hearing it said in such a simple way was awful. He would much rather call it a murder attempt.

They were all scheduled to talk with the aurors separately, and his was right after Terry’s. Hadrian at first thought they were all going to be questioned together, as it the questioning was delayed mainly because of his health. Hadrian was also the only one that was ordered by the healers to stay in bed, because he still was tiring out quickly and wasn’t able to walk far without leaning on walls or someone else for support. Terry was taken to Healer Shafiq’s office, and Anemone was led to wait in Healer Bell’s.

Hadrian just wanted to get it over with. He still felt like he had a cold and Pepper Up wasn’t helping as he wasn’t actually sick. Even his clothes irritated his skin. At that point, he was glad he opted for a vision-correcting potion, that he had to take once every six months, because he was sure his nose would hurt as well. His muscles felt sore, his throat slowly got better, the once livid purple bruises on his neck had started to turn green, and the swelling had gone down considerably. He was avoiding mirrors until the bruises were completely gone – he could hardly stand to see them. The first time he saw them, he got an ugly shock, a flashback and a panic attack in the bathroom, which alarmed the personnel. The pity in their eyes made him want to hide more than anything else. He couldn’t cast a glamour because The healers had forbidden him from using magic for a while, so he mainly stayed in his bed. He ended up really liking the sour matron, whose name was Elisabeth Edge, because she looked like she had enough of everything and was on the edge of quitting. Two other matrons, which had the other two shifts during the day, always treated him like a porcelain doll that would break any moment. A lot of people did that. Remus looked at him like that too, when he thought no one was watching. It was a complete accident that Hadrian noticed.

Perhaps it was childish, but the dark blue blanket Mrs. Boot brought him comforted him somehow. It was very nice in touch, which was always a plus. He couldn’t stand it when blankets or sheets were made of scratchy and rough materials.

Time passed slowly and relentlessly. His grandmother came quarter to four looking like she was ready for a confrontation. She hadn’t talked with James since Hadrian’s early childhood, and they hadn’t parted on good terms, so that was understandable. She wore her hair in a tight bun, which reminded him of McGonagall, and had dark violet robes with a navy dress that screamed wealth. The chair she transfigured for herself was elegant and matched her dark brown shoes.

There was warmth in her eyes when she looked at him.

“You are looking better, Rian,” she told him gently. No one called him Rian anymore. It was a very old nickname, and Hadrian spent long time convincing everyone that he was too old to be called that when he was seven or eight. Unfortunately, Terry overheard his grandmother calling him Rian, and began using it as well. Hadrian dutifully pretended to be mortally offended. Terry was lucky his name was so simple it didn’t have any shorter versions.

“I feel better, but I am still tired. This morning I tried to walk a bit around the ward, but the length of the corridor was my limit.” At least his voice was back to normal. It didn’t break, wasn’t so hoarse and rough, and he could speak longer than few minutes without going nearly mute. “Healer Shafiq said they could release me home now, but I should rest for at least another week.”

“It would be probably a bit more. There is a month left of term, so I think it would be best if you just sat the end of the year exams, rather than return. You might be fine with small distances, but going around Hogwarts is something completely different.”

Hadrian could see that. He thought Healers were exaggerating with how tired and weak he would be during recovery, but he was quickly learning that wasn’t the case. Going anywhere was a challenge. He liked Hogwarts well enough but right now he couldn’t stand even thinking about those stairs. There were hundreds of staircases all over the castle, and even if the average student only used about fifteen different staircases to get to classes, dorms or the Great Hall, it still added up. His own common room was on top of long staircase, and he had to take another set to get to his dorm room. As much as he wanted to see his friends, he knew it wasn’t a good idea to try quite yet.

He never was parted from Terry, Anthony, and Michael for very long. It sounded a bit unhealthy, especially when he realized how uncomfortable and unsure he felt when he thought about a month without them, but they always had his back and acted as a barrier between him and the rest of Hogwarts. Hadrian was better at socializing than he had been in their first year but he still tended to get snippy and irritated when he was pushed beyond his limits. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t make friends – he just preferred to make them in a specific way. After all, joining the conversation was easier than starting it.

He decided to have someone to ship him his trunk, books and planner so they could communicate.

Hadrian must have liked as unsure as he felt, because his grandmother reached for his hand and held it calmly. They had an awkward relationship. Neither of them had any idea how to treat the other, and although they had started the process of getting to know one another again, they still had hard time expressing anything with words without knowing what was fine to say and what wasn’t. If Hadrian ever wondered from whom he inherited his social difficulties, he didn't need to look any further. She tried though, and he was really grateful for it. It was rare for people to actively try to have a good relationship with him, especially when it hadn’t started smoothly.

She let go of his hand when the door opened and Tonks walked. Another auror walked in behind her, followed by James. Hadrian hadn’t seen him for a very long time, but he hadn’t changed. Wizardkind aged a lot slower than their muggle counterparts. Some people weren’t getting wrinkles until fifty or sixty if they were particularly powerful, so James still looked fairly young. And he was young by their world’s standards. His grandmother was considered middle-aged, and she was seventy-five if Hadrian remembered correctly.

The second auror introduced herself as Maria Brown. She looked a pretty similar Lavender Brown from his year, and Hadrian couldn’t help but wonder if they were related. An aunt, maybe? Both were blond, a bit chubby and had a very friendly face with a killer smile. Tonks introduced herself as well, after a slightly awkward pause. As she wasn’t familiar with his grandmother it was expected of her, though she clearly didn’t want to do so. Hadrian could somewhat understand she didn’t like her name but… wasn’t she twenty or something? Surely she’d had enough time to get over it, because frowning every time she introduced herself, or failing to introducing herself entirely by claiming that everyone knew her already was incredibly unprofessional. She didn’t have a full control over her abilities, so her actually brown her tinted angry red. She left it like that.

James hesitated in the door for a long moment, then grudgingly stepped inside and closed the door behind him. It was evident that he hadn't expected to see his mother and had no idea what she was doing there. He wasn’t happy about her presence, which was only made alle the more obvious by his tense posture He always hated when a situation was out of his control. Maybe it was because of his work, maybe it was his nature. James Potter was a control freak.

Auror Brown stood next to Anemone’s bed, and a second Tonks sat on it next to her. Why they let their trainee act so casual was beyond Hadrian, maybe they thought it would made him more comfortable around them? James took a place on the other side of Auror Brown, near the foot of the bed, and folded his arms over his chest.

Everything started just like Hadrian imagined. Tonks asked him to confirm his name, date of birth and his involvement in the situation, and then to describe what had happened from the beginning. He started describing Hagrid’s task but was almost immediately interrupted and asked about the cause of the detention. At first, he said it was an alteration with a student, but then elaborated when Auror Brown asked with who and how. He listed as many students as he remembered, Percival being first, then his own House’s prefect, Anthony and Michael. If they were going to pin anything on his dislike of Ronald, then it was good to have witnesses that everything had happened just like he said. Thankfully, a lot of people saw and heard Weasley going off at him. He also mentioned the old incident in the library, and listed Greengrass, Davis and Diggory. He hoped that Tonks wrote it down correctly on the report of the interview.

Eventually he was able to explain how they were informed that the detention will be served under Hagrid and that until they were about to enter, they had no idea they were going into the Forbidden Forest. They were interested in hearing what was said when Longbottom broke his leg, which was a bit odd, but Hadrian obediently told them that no one was happy with Hagrid’s solution. He couldn’t remember if it was Ronald and Draco who protested loudly but Anemone for sure voiced her concern. Hagrid refused to take them back with him.

The problem was, there was no other way to tell what happened after Hagrid left them in the forest without telling about his talents. Talking to Tonks and Auror Brown about it in front of James was highly uncomfortable. He still remembered how James berated him in Healer Boot’s office and then at home because he thought Hadrian was lying and joking around.

He mentioned his bad feeling but writing it off on anxiety and being unsure about the Forest, which was a good reason. Everyone knew how eerie the Forest could be even in the middle of the day. He mentioned that he felt like they were being watched and how he got distracted from it by something moving in the woods. They all heard the stomping, which is what got them to move.

When he began to explain that he was magically sensitive, and that could be confirmed by the healers, James was looking at him intently with _that_ look in his eyes. The same look he sometimes saw in Theodore’s eyes. Hadrian settled his eyes on Auror Brown. He shortly described how they discovered he was able to see through most of the masking spells they studied and listed the ones he was familiar with. Well, the spells that could be found in the books from the Hogwarts library, at least there was no need to announce he knew more.

Describing the wild chase through the Forest was difficult, he stumbled around the words a bit and his hands were shaking even tightened on the blanket. He had to be very pale because Auror Brown filled a glass with water without being asked to and his grandmother told him to drink it slowly. They asked him a lot of additional questions. Did he heard which curse hit Weasley? Did he see its color? Why they didn’t bring him with them? Why did they think he may be dead? What curses did Rowle cast? Why did he think they were casting Unforgivables? What kind of spells did he cast? Why did they chose to run towards the Centaur’s territory. How did Anemone and Terry get hurt? Who carried and hid them? How did Hadrian know where to hide them? How did he put up such a powerful masking spell? Was the mist his doing, and if so how and why?

It required a bit of explanation about his ability to manipulate magic and to strengthen spells, which gave Hadrian a moment to breathe. His reason behind using the mist was good, Hadrian even now thought it was a nice idea that shielded them and bought them time. He could explain that and speak about academics.

Still, Hadrian felt sick. He couldn’t help but notice that James seemed to be greatly displeased by any show of weakness, but at least he didn’t say anything. He even looked at his shaking hands with something akin to disbelief as if what had happened wasn’t worth Hadrian’s reaction. It was puzzling. Hadrian had no idea if the presence of Dorea Black caused it or not but James, despite being outspoken, always cared about how others perceived him. Maybe he controlled himself because of Tonks and Auror Brown?

The next part was the hardest, and Auror Brown took over asking questions, which had been mainly Tonks' job thus far. She choose to formulate the questions in a way that required a short answer from Hadrian and elaboration only if he didn’t agree with what she was saying. He still had to tell her what Rowle was yelling, and that was when Hadrian felt a bile rising to his throat. His stomach was already clenched but Hadrian pushed forward with questioning despite it. They got to the worst part all too quickly.

The silent rage that his grandmother expressed while sitting by him was palpable. James, on the other hand, seemed blasé, as if they were talking about ordinary day with a small mishap.

“So you dropped your wand and didn’t reach for it?”

“Yes. It was somewhere on the ground. Draco gave it to me later.”

“Your wand wasn’t used to cast the cutting spell.”

“No, it wasn’t. I cast it wandlessly.”

“You claim to be in some way proficient in wandless magic?”

“Yes. Lord Goldstein, his son, Terry Boot, Michael Corner and my sister can confirm it. They all at some point were able to witness it.”

“How long are you able to cast without wand?”

“Since I was nine.”

There was no doubt that James was furious hearing this. He hadn’t known that Hadrian was using wandless magic long before he got his wand. He’d forbidden it, and Hadrian had ignored that. What’s more, Hadrian ignored nearly everything James had said to him regarding any kind of dark magic. He must have wondered what else Hadrian had learned and what he was getting his hands on.

They moved to Centaurs, getting Anemone and Terry out of the hiding place, waiting for help and Hadrian’s use of _stagnatio_ , which wasn’t questioned at all. He made sure to clearly state that he had heard Draco arguing that Ministry needed to be informed right away to Dumbledore, who showed himself after McGonagall and Remus found them and then tried to say it wasn’t needed. Tonks wrote it all down, but Hadrian had no idea if she looked unhappy about what would be a lengthy report or his testimony but he didn’t care all that much. He was exhausted.

He wouldn’t have remembered to ask to see the statement if Auror Brown hadn’t said it needed to be signed by her, Tonks, Hadrian and his legal guardian. James made to sign it himself, but his grandmother was much faster.

“I won't sign anything unless Hadrian first reads the report and confirms that it was all written down truthfully. That is the law,” she demanded with conviction. Hadrian had never known that, but her husband was the Head Auror for years, and she was probably well versed in magical law, a subject Hadrian had neglected in his own studies. He would trust her word more than anyone else’s in that moment.

“Mother – “

“Not now, James. As the Head of the Family I have a full legal guardianship. I’ll be the one signing,” she cut him off firmly.

Hadrian noticed that Tonks’ hair became more red, like she was starting to get angry. He’d seen that reaction from her before. Almost like… something was wrong with the report? But then everything fell in the place. She was close with Dumbledore. How sure he could be about her being impartial? She could have omitted important details very easily, and then no one would be any wiser.

The parchment was handed over to him reluctantly, which he found even more suspicious. He read it over carefully, which was hard enough to do with Tonks’ rushed, almost illegible handwriting and his own trembling hands. He laid it on his lap and simply turned the pages, rather than trying to hold the statement steady. The atmosphere in the room was tense. He quickly found missing information and something that made him freeze.

“It has been written that I cast a wandless spell of unknown origin, but it was a simple cutting spell I learned at Hogwarts in class. It just cut. I am sure of it,” he stated. What, exactly, did they want to do? Make him seem like he was throwing deathly curses? “It also says that Dumbledore was there with professors McGonagall and Lupin. He was not. There is nothing here about his argument with Draco Malfoy or his reluctance to summon the aurors and the healers.”

He tried to sound calm but this was simply outrageous. Not only did his father think nothing of Hadrian’s traumatizing experience, he was only there to sign a document that would help Dumbledore remain in power.

“Auror Brown, please note the missing information and the person who wrote the report as the person who omitted it. Then I will sign under it.”

“Of course, Regent Potter. I am sure it was mistake due to the length of the interview.” Auror Brown couldn’t argue and she didn’t even try. She just asked Hadrian to fill in the missing information and wrote word for word what he had said. The woman wasn’t looking at him, but Hadrian could tell she was baffled about the whole situation, quite embarrassed and possibly even angry? She caught Tonks looking at him with barely concealed anger, her hair in between brown and intense red, and Auror Brown grew noticeably upset. Tonks was nearly scowling at him!

And Auror Brown wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Trainee Tonks, the only thing that holds me back from filing a complaint about your unprofessional behavior is your trainee status and the hope that you will learn something from the situation,” his grandmother said while signing the protocol with flourish. She passed Hadrian a quill, and only then did she look at Tonks. “I won’t stay my hand again.” Her tone was vaguely patronizing, as if Tonks was a child she couldn’t be bothered to argue with. It made Tonks seem even more incompetent and her actions that much more childish. Her hair steadily grew even more pink. A sign of embarrassment?

“All information relating to the case can be passed directly to me,” Dorea Potter continued, speaking directly to Auror Brown. “Hadrian will be in my care upon his discharge from St. Mungo’s. You may contact me at Potter Manor if you have further questions for Hadrian. I trust information about Hadrian’s health and the details of this investigation will not be disclosed with anyone?”

James’ eyes were burning holes in Hadrian’s head, but Hadrian refused to look at him. After all, everything was fine. His grandmother was in charge, she was taking him in and he wouldn’t be forced back to Potter Cottage. He had nothing of the value there, his important possessions were stored in his trunk, as he hadn’t been back at the cottage in a very long time, and had ho intention of ever returning. He would have breathed a sigh of relief if he were alone. He was extremely pleased that the situation had developed this way. He had no idea what would have hapened if he had failed to somehow mend his relationship with his grandmother or Andromeda had simply decided the woman wasn’t needed at their meeting with Regulus.

Tonks left the room first. Auror Brown followed her after saying they would question Anemone in twenty minutes. She likely wanted to take a moment to talk to Tonks and tell her to get a grip before they went in to speak with his sister. That, or maybe Auror Brown just desperately needed a cuppa.

The room was uncomfortably silent. Hadrian let himself fall back on the pillows into half-seated position, unable to shake the thought that he was putting himself right back into a vulnerable position. But no, he wasn’t alone with James, and he couldn’t hurt him anymore. Not physically at least, and at this point Hadrian wondered if it would hurt if that man started yelling vulgarities or insults at him. James’ opinions only mattered if Hadrian’s quality of life depended on them. Their relationship was strained at best, and how Hadrian had his own support network. It would be nice if things were different, but the fact was they weren’t, and he no longer felt like he needed James’ validation or presence in his life. He could remember a time when everything was fine, when James would play with him or read aloud and he would laugh freely and without care. But that time was long gone. Hadrian had let the thought that he would be someday good enough to James without pretending to be someone else die a natural death somewhere in previous year. He couldn’t lie himself and say that he loved his father. If there was any feeling at all, it was a lot of anger. Anger about James’ righteousness, pettiness and egotism. Rage when James tried to cover his tracks and make him seem crazy. The fact that James almost made him believe he was when Charles was yelling at him about being an attention seeker and liar…

James was easy to dislike, Hadrian had to give Snape that. He had no idea how Charles could put James on a pedestal and idolize him. Was Hadrian more critical simply because of the disaster with the godfather ritual? Hadrian had no idea if blood was making that difference. Anemone wasn’t in his situation and she was more analytical and level-headed than Charles could ever be. Did she get it from their mother? Lily Potter had a terrific mind after all, there was no point in denying that.

Which brought to mind another thought: Lily still wasn’t there. They’d been in the hospital for four days and she hadn’t even written to them. Not once. Anemone said she wasn’t expecting it, but it was clearly something she had no desire to speak about. The disappointment was tangible, although she hadn’t cried or demand their mother. She handled it calmly with pure resignation. At the same time, she soaked up the attention from their grandmother like a sponge. The three of them were talking for hours, often dragging Terry into it as he was in the room with them, and they continued talking when Hadrian had to nap and rest, which happened a lot. At first the couldn’t stay awake for more than five hours. They had to transport him to bathroom in a wheelchair, which Hadrian had no idea they had in St. Mungo’s, because he wasn’t able to stand by himself without getting ridiculously dizzy. He thought he was getting better, so it baffled him.

Charles hadn’t contacted them either. Hadrian couldn’t help but wonder, if Anemone was simply putting on a front when all she did was call him a twat and shrug at his behavior. Neither had gotten along with their brother since the big fallout that fateful December. It had only gotten worse after Hadrian told Anemone about Charles bullying younger Slytherins. She was furious, and quickly found Charles in the company of his year. She proceeded to tell him to leave Astoria alone in very strong words, which was shocking on its own because she never swore. It ought to be even more shocking to Charles when he found out that his little sister hung out with Slytherins regularly and really liked Astoria, who had quickly become one of her best friends.

Remus let him and Anemone know that he wished they would try to make up with Charles as he was their brother. They were both forced to listen to Remus’ rather long diatribe detailing how important it was to be supportive to one another, especially because James and Lily would not be around one day, and there would never be anyone closer than family to support them during trying times, and so on, and so forth. Hadrian idly thought that he would rather count on literally anyone else than his brother to help him, even if he had to do something in return. No, he couldn’t imagine Charles having his back. What he could imagine was Charles calling him a dark traitor and attention seeker to his face and then trying to curse him.

The only member of the family that Hadrian was still unsure about was Remus. They all saw him as an uncle, there was no doubt about that, and not one of them cared about his status as a werewolf. He raised them, cared for them and loved them like his own children. Hadrian didn’t want to lose that, didn’t want to lose _him_ , but he couldn’t trust Remus. Not with everything. Not when he knew that Remus would always side with Dumbledore. Of course, Remus felt he owed the Headmaster a lot – admitting creatures to Hogwarts just wasn’t done often, after all – and Hadrian could understand feeling indebted to the person who took a chance on him, but the longer he looked the more Remus seemed to be deprived of his own opinions, stances or decisions. He thought Dumbledore’s decisions were best because the man knew best. _The headmaster had to have his reasons._ There was little to no questioning, although Remus never had it in him to become as obsessive and paranoid as James. He just shunned away from everyone and everything dark.

Hadrian cared about Remus dearly, but he wasn’t delusional. He was going to be hurt by his rejection if he didn’t hide some parts of himself from Remus. It was a fact, but that didn’t mean that he was ready to accept it. Hadrian seriously doubted he would ever be ready even knowing about it in advance. Remus had held him, hugged and had been there for him despite his depression and trouble with Sirius.

And Sirius. Hadrian remembered him just fine, even if Sirius never had a lot of free time to spend with him. There were Christmases, birthdays, random visits and sometimes even sleep overs in the guest room, but he was always working with James. They both had long hours, and while James had paperwork on his mind constantly, Sirius was all about action. Then one day, he started getting missions on the continent. They became more and more frequent until Hadrian couldn’t pinpoint the moment he realized that was all Sirius was assigned anymore. Now they corresponded regularly, but their relationship wasn’t very strong. They would only write completely pointless letters about the weather and a toned-down version of Hadrian’s school life whenever he didn’t ask about customs, cultures and life in countries Sirius visited. Sirius always tried to describe it as best he could and he would sometimes sent him books or postcards.

The thing was, Hadrian couldn’t say he really knew Sirius. Of course he knew where Sirius worked, that he was a prankster and a surprisingly sarcastic commentator but he didn’t _know_ him. Hadrian had no idea if Sirius liked his job, what he thought of people and current events, even things as simple as Sirius’ likes and dislikes were just guesswork. What was worse, to some extent the same could be said about his mother. In her case however, it was easier to anticipate what she thought about any one subject because of her tendency to adopt James' views and to reject anything related to the wizarding tradition.

Hadrian blinked disoriented. He immediately knew that he had another episode and it was a rather long one, since his eyes felt dry and his body stiff. Focusing on the outside world was hard but he latched onto the quite voice that was speaking. It wasn’t his grandmother nor James. Terry. He sat on the edge of the bed by Hadrian’s leg. Simply moving his eyes to focus on Terry was a chore but he eventually managed to turn and look at Terry’s eyes.

“Everything is alright. Anne is being questioned right now, and we are alone, but my father is coming to us in a minute. You scared Healer Shafiq and he had to be told about the curse. Do you hear me? Can you blink again?” Terry was so used to his episodes that they had whole routine. During the big ones, when he was completely lost in his mind for longer than half an hour, his friends could tell when he was slowly coming back so they talked a lot to give him something to focus on. Usually they would focus on the situation they were in so he wouldn’t feel so disoriented and torn from reality. The discomfort was still there, that really couldn’t be helped as he had no idea what had happened during that time, but at least he felt included.

This time Terry’s words made him get lost in his thoughts again. He had an episode in the hospital and Healers saw it. James saw it and probably knew exactly what the Isolation Curse was if Regulus had it. _The secret was out._

He quickly worked himself up about it. He hadn’t had an incident that strong in weeks! Was it because he wasn’t performing rituals, so the curse hit him harder? Or was it because the exhaustion and stress?

The next thing he remembered were faces of Mr. Jeremiah, Healer Shafiq and some unknown woman in healer robes. He knew they were talking about him, but he couldn’t focus on words just yet. He tried to move, but his efforts were in vain. His body didn’t even feel like it belong to him.

“There is not much known about it. Jeremiah’s son told us they usually waited and made sure to inform him about his surroundings and what was happening. There is nothing I can do, Izaac.”

“But he also said it had never lasted this long, Melisa. Perhaps the Calming Draught is worsening the symptoms?” Healer Shafiq sounded truly uncomfortable and unsure with the whole situation.

“I highly doubt it, although it could be a delayed reaction to trauma.”

“I think he’s back. Hadrian, do you hear me?” Mr. Jeremiah asked suddenly, interrupting both healers, who looked at his eyes with interest.

Hadrian heard him but couldn’t respond. His eyes burned. Had he even blinked once during that whole time? He focused on closing his eyes, which clearly worried healers around him. Someone’s hand checked his pulse and spells were cast on him. It took a long while for Hadrian to realize he was still half-seated on the hospital bed.

There was a lot of talking around him. He was nearly certain he had heard his grandmother discussing something with Healer Shafiq and Melisa. Then there was Anemone’s voice.

Hadrian was in and not-quite-out of it few times before everything settled and he started coming back to reality more fully. Anemone was reading a book about magical beasts aloud. The chapter was about dragons, and he focused on her words to give himself time to remind himself that he was actually in his body and could move it as he pleased. He was almost sure that this time he wouldn’t recede to his mind again, but he had no idea how long he had spent there. His sense of time was always screwed when something like this happened.

Anemone had read the characteristics of all seven species of dragons before Hadrian was able to open his eyes and move his head to the side. Circle of Magic, he felt stiff and tense. His movement alerted Anemone, who dropped her book on the ground surprised, and looked at him with relief in her eyes.

“I was so worried,” she said when she lifted the book and put it on the bedside table. “You were out for a really long time, about six hours, and when you closed eyes Healer Shafiq panicked. Mr. Boot said he’s on a thin ice here and you are kind of famous right now.”

Six hours was a new record. The last one was three, but it was throughout a whole day, not non-stop.

“What happened?”

“It was a riot,” Anemone admitted and shuffled her chair closer, so she was able put her elbows on the bed and support her head with hands. “I was waiting for my questioning. Grandma came in all furious and James was right behind her. I’ve never seen him that angry. Auror Brown and Tonks were looking at him like they were seeing him for the first time. I swear! Tonks was looking at him like he was crazy! And then I told him what had happened by the lake and then in the Forest. Auror Brown asked a lot of additional questions. Seriously, a lot. She even asked if I ever saw you casting something wandlessly and she had a really odd expression on her face when I told her that you cast _protego_ wandlessly in the forest as we were running! There was a question why we left Ronald on the ground and why I thought that Rowle was casting the Unforgivables. Tonks wanted me to explain why I told you to run into Centaurs’ territory. I couldn’t tell them much because the last thing I remember is the spell hitting the ground between Terry and me. And then father asked if I was ever afraid of you! You should have seen the faces of grandma, Tonks and Auror Brown. I said no, obviously. You saved us. Tonks asked if I know that you killed Rowle. Of course I knew! It was… There was no other choice. I am grateful I am alive. That we are alive. Rowle was crazy and twisted. I told them what he was yelling.”

“Did you read over the protocol before signing under it?”

“Yep. Grandma insisted. Everything was alright but Tonks hair turned pinkish for a moment? I don’t know why.”

“She omitted few things in the protocol of my hearing. I think that Auror Brown said something to her.”

“But why she would do that?” Anemone furrowed her brows. “I don’t understand.”

“She never wrote down that Dumbledore argued with Draco in the Forest. And for some reason she wrote Dumbledore was there with McGonagall and Lupin. She was angry at me when I pointed it out. Maybe it was something he told her to do,” he said. “You know, the secret meetings in the cottage.”

“Ah, that makes sense. But why would she?” Anemone asked. “Tonks is an auror. She shouldn't abuse her position just because he asks her to. Will they fire her?”

“I don’t think so. What happened next?” He had a bad feeling about it. Again. The misfortunes came in pairs, and in his case sometimes came down like an avalanche. Did the information about his bloodline curse slipped out somehow? Did James know?

“Well, next Healer Shafiq came back and told them that nothing changed. He said that they left Terry with you because Terry said it had happened quite often in Hogwarts but never lasted more than maybe forty minutes, and now it was a bit over an hour. He asked father about it, but didn’t know anything and said it must have been some type of spell that hit you in the Forest. Grandma looked conflicted but said it might be a family curse. Father objected but she interrupted him and said it was from her side of family. He was furious,” Anemone continued. “They asked me to leave but I heard from the corridor that they were arguing. Auror Brown and Tonks left with me, but they went back to the Ministry. I overheard matrons gossiping that father tried to shake your shoulders, but grandma threatened to hex him. One of the matrons wanted to give you a potion so she saw it and called Healer Shafiq.”

An avalanche. Hadrian almost didn’t want to hear the rest and he covered his eyes with his hand massaging temples with his thumb and forefinger.

“A Mind Healer arrived, and Healer Shafiq took her to you. I don’t know if he learned anything but I think that Terry panicked when it stretched into two hours and told them it was the Isolation Curse. Father and grandma came out of Healer Shafiq’s office and I asked if I can still live with her. I was nervous because I had no idea what was going on, they were yelling inside the whole time and father asked why I hate him so much and what he had done, and I got so angry because he said it like I was the one in the wrong so I blurted out – Rian I’m so sorry I didn’t want to but it just came out of my mouth. Everyone was looking at me and he had this look in his eyes – and I said it’s because he treats you terribly, he yells, and he-he _hit_ you and you bleed, and I’m afraid that he would treat me the same because I support you. And everyone was just so silent. I swear I didn’t want to say it but I just –”

“Anne, I am not mad,” he interrupted her when Anemone’s eyes shined with unshed tears. She was really upset about blurting that out and Hadrian could see it. Nothing could be done right now and maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing for their grandmother to know about it. “It’s fine. We will deal with it.”

Hadrian was scared to find out what would happen next, but it was actually kind of a relief. Of course, it wasn’t the way he wanted it to happen- he had enough pitying looks being thrown his way, and people would inevitably stare and gossip – but at least his grandmother would know. He didn’t have to keep it a secret. He didn’t want Anemone to feel bad about it. She was still clearly shaken up.

“So you’re going with grandmother?”

She nodded.

“Yes. That was it. Next thing we know, Healer Shafiq is panicking because you closed your eyes. It really worried everyone. Mr. Boot was very torn. I mean, you weren’t responding to anything. After three hours, Healer Shafiq went to check the register. Apparently St. Mungo’s has a registry of family curses. It is not available to everyone and you have special clearance. The point is, Mr. Boot said if something had happened to you, Healer Shafiq would be directly responsible and the hospital was on already on the verge of firing him, so he had to do something and contacted Lord Black about the curse. They left me with you, and within half an hour Lord Black came in, looked at you for a long time, asked me who I was, and then left.” Anemone worried her lip and reached for her long braid to play with it nervously. “That’s all.”

This was a nightmare. Hadrian had no doubt that Lord Black saw the resemblance to his family members. Bellatrix took one look and she knew something was up. Regulus too. He remembered clearly what Andromeda had said. If Lord Black wanted to, there was nothing forbidding him from removing Hadrian from Potter family.

Fear coiled around him like a snake.

“Hadrian, what’s going to happen?”

“I have no idea.”

*

Arcturus Black, Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, was one terrifying man. Theodore’s father got close with the intimidating look and posture, but he never held power over Hadrian’s life in his hands as Lord Black did in this moment.

The family resemblance was there. The cheekbones, sharp features and hair, which in Lord Black’s case was nearly fully grey and much shorter, though that didn’t stop it from curling. He was also ridiculously tall, well over six foot, thin and had broad shoulders with a trim waist, which was exposed by well-tailored clothes. He had wrinkles around eyes and mouth and on his forehead. His eyes were a stormy grey that reminded Hadrian of Sirius and Regulus.

Hadrian would prefer if he looked at him with any expression on his face other than the blank mask he wore now, which didn’t quite match the sharp and piercing look in his eyes. He wasn’t doing anything, just sitting by the foot of Hadrian’s bed on a transfigured chair, waiting for something. It felt like some kind of test. Hadrian had no idea what to do, so he waited patiently. By tradition, Lord Black had to introduce himself first if he was meeting someone new and there was no one to introduce him. It was rude to look around, so Hadrian set his eyes on the bridge of Arcturus Black’s nose, after he finished his quick inspection of the man.

He hoped he was hiding the nervousness at least marginally well. His hands weren’t shaking only because he was holding a book he’s been given by Blaise. He closed it the moment Lord Black entered the room but didn’t put it back. He was given next doze of Calming Draught not that long ago, which definitely helped. It made Hadrian feel hollow, but he preferred that over crippling anxiety that didn’t want to go away. Dreamless Sleep almost didn’t work at night, so it was hard to get a full night’s sleep. He relived everything in his nightmares, sometimes dying in them or dreaming about Anemone’s, Terry’s or Draco’s deaths. He was waking up terrified, soaked in sweat and afraid to fall asleep again. Laying in the dark after such dreams was horrible. Only Calming Draught and Hadrian’s ability to clinically rationalize everything kept it all in check. Without the potions he would be certainly getting worked up every time the light was due to be turned off.

„Sometimes, just sometimes, I dare to hope that new generations of wizards will take all that we give them, all the education and experiences and morals that we work tirelessly to bestow upon them, and use them in a way that will make us proud to have had a hand in shaping the person they became. I look at my heir, Orion, a man who presents himself well enough, and I know that he will make us proud. But then I look at my _successor_ -Heir, and I wonder where we went wrong. Especially when I am informed by St. Mungo’s that they have a patient who has been touched by a curse that should only affect the main line of the Black Family. I have to wonder, you see, because, as it turns out, my great-grandson was moronic enough to ignore _everything_ we have ever taught him about rituals, and performed a potentially lethal mixed ritual on a _baby_ ,” Lord Black said, his tone light and conversational, as if he were simply telling Hadrian about the weather. „I cannot say that I was exactly surprised to find that my cousin’s son was equally idiot in his endeavors, it was rather expected coming from _that_ side of the family. Worse still, he thought that his mistake would go unnoticed and tried to hide it from the world, and almost cost a magical child their ability to cast and wield magic, their ability to even exist in our world. Such irresponsibility should not be characteristic in the person holding the position of Head Auror, and yet... You are more a Black than you have ever been a Potter, and you belong to the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Hiding you from us was heinous. But he was not the only one to secrets. You put your grandmother under an oath, and something tells me that she was not the only one. Who else?”

“Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy and Regulus Black,” Hadrian said simply. There was no point in lying. Still, he didn’t name Andromeda as he had no idea if Lord Black knew about her sisters keeping in touch with her, nor did he feel there was any reason to list Draco.

Lord Black now seemed to be mildly interested.

“Explain from the beginning.” It wasn’t a request, and though Hadrian would prefer not to, angering Lord Black and starting their relationship like that was something he didn’t want to risk. If Lord Black counted him as a Black, he could easily make his life miserable.

So Hadrian explained about the suspicions he had no idea how to confirm without making it official, about Lady Goldstein’s ball and his introductions to the Malfoys and Lestranges, about Bellatrix bringing him the parchment out of her own curiosity and about the theory he’d had since Lord Nott made that comment that was now confirmed. Then he jumped into Draco witnessing one of his episodes and telling him he’d seen something like that, which led to discovering the curses that plagued Black family and finally to contacting Regulus and meeting him and his grandmother. He couldn’t leave Andromeda out of it, as she was a key person, his connection to others, but he tried to downplay her role in the whole story as much as he could.

Lord Black didn’t interrupt him once. He just listened and watched calmly. In general, he wasn’t what Hadrian had expected him to be. Sirius always described his family in such a terrible way – dark wizards, aggressive traditionalists, half-crazed and manipulative as sin – but Lord Black seemed to be an oasis of peace. Of course, Hadrian would expect anyone dealing with politics and leading the House to be manipulative and cunning, so he wouldn’t argue that point, but crazed? No, Arcturus Black didn’t seem unhinged. Intelligent, calculating, poised, those were better descriptions of what Hadrian was seeing. And traditionalist? There was no traditional greetings, no introductions. Maybe it was because they were talking alone? Or because Lord Black counted him as family? Those formalities could be omitted if he did. In the end it didn’t matter, he said that Hadrian belonged to them.

“Why did you inform your grandmother so late? You knew she was family.” So that was how the Black Family thought of it? Blacks were always Blacks, but those that were born outside of the House weren’t?

“We haven’t spoken or written since I was six. She argued with James at Anemone’s fifth birthday, and from that point on, all contact was creased. We were told that she was surrounding herself with dark magic and dangerous wizards. Our post was monitored until we went to the Hogwarts, but by then I was unsure about contacting her. I sent one letter last year but there was no response. Andromeda contacted her for me, and grandmother had no idea she would be meeting me with Regulus. We have corresponded since then.”

Lord Black shook his head slowly, managing to look both elegant and disappointed.

“Shall they be a family in name only; or shall they in all their actions be true to the name?”

Hadrian fought a simile that was creeping on his face. He hadn’t expected _that_ either. Who knew?

“For what can be further ridiculous than for them to utter the names of family ties with the lips only and not to act in the spirit of them? Plato, Republic, book five,” he said.

To his amazement, the corner of Lord Black’s lips lifted into a smile.

Hadrian dared to think that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t become another nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments feed my creativity!


	7. Ab irato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much, Arekusandorachan, for being a wonderful beta-reader! You're the best and without your hard work, this chapter wouldn't be so wonderful.
> 
> I'm still not fluent in English, I still don't own Harry Potter.

Lily Potter was pretty. She had a symmetric face with narrow nose, a pair of big, vividly green eyes and full lips. Her skin looked air-brushed, though Hadrian knew she hid her imperfections and freckles under semi-permanent cosmetic spells. The only difference he noticed was her hair. It was much shorter, cut into shoulder-length bob with thin fringe. She used to keep it long, just like Anemone did now. In fact, his little sister would look exactly like their mother if not for Anemone’s more aristocratic features and her height. Anemone was very tall for her age, a head taller than Hadrian, and she was still rapidly growing. Lily was petite and while she wasn’t short, she wasn’t tall either, so Anemone was catching up to her. Or maybe they were the same height by now? Hadrian had no idea. It had been a long while since he’d seen them standing side by side.

Hadrian hadn’t seen Lily since he left the cottage after James hit him, and he would be surprised if they exchanged more than ten letters during that time. Michael sometimes tipped him off where she was or what she was doing due to her appearing often in _The Potioneer,_ a magazine that catered to everyone interested in Potions. Michael was subscribed to it long before Hadrian met him. There were often photos, articles and interviews with her. She always spoke about her work and inventions, rarely mentioning anything else.

Seeing her now was an odd experience. She looked out of place in the manor wearing a white blouse and jeans. Her cardigan was thrown over the arm of the chair she was perched in, which was either an insult from his grandmother as one of house elves should take it, or Lily’s insult to host’s hospitality and she refused to let the cardigan to be taken. Either was possible, honestly. Dorea Potter disliked her greatly, and Lily despised the thought of having house elves. He remembered Lily calling the practice of owning them ‘barbarian’.

Lily was watching him as he slowly moved towards the sitting area. Hadrian was already out of breath when he got to the large sofa and that was while using a cane to help himself. Anemone was right behind him. She had been shadowing him for the two days they had been there, as if he would pass out somewhere if she didn’t. Their grandmother ordered two house elves to monitor him and had elegant backless seats placed on mezzanines and in the middle of long corridors. They were arranged as the elements of decorations with large, ornamented flowerpots, vases or short vertical sculptures placed at their sides.

Both Hadrian and Anemone were confused when they were told that their mother was there to see them. Lily wanted to speak with them now? He didn’t know what to think about it. Anemone clearly wasn’t expecting it, and she seemed more pensive and miffed than pleased. Lily hadn’t visited when they were in St. Mungo’s and they’d spent a whole week there. Andromeda had come to see them four times. Remus came in three evenings in a row. Mrs. Victoria stopped by to chat every evening before or after her shifts.

“Why did you do that, Hadrian?” He remembered that particular sentence paired with this expression on Lily’s face. He’d been eight, maybe nine. The Weasley and Longbottom families had both come for a barbeque and Ronald and Charles were driving him crazy, so he went inside the cottage through the kitchen door. Ronald tried to follow, but the door slammed shut just as he was trying to cross the threshold. Hadrian had no idea if it was a draft or his own accidental magic that caused it, but Lily clearly had her own opinion on the matter. Once Ronald’s nose was fixed, Lily looked at him exactly as she did now and asked that same question. Not _what happened_ or _did you close the door_. Why did you do that. She just assumed it was all his fault.

“Why did I do what?” he asked, although he was fairly sure he knew what she was going to say. James must have said something to her, that or she had come to her own conclusions upon learning that they were staying with their grandmother.

“All of it, Hadrian.” She made a bizarre motion with her hand, as if she wanted to point around herself but halted midmotion and dropped her hand to rest on the left thigh. “Just...all of it. Going to your grandmother? We have talked about this! She uses all manners of dark magic and hosts tea parties with traditionalists – the same people who look down on me, on you, on Anemone! They want to register and brainwash us, they want to rid the world of anything even remotely non-magical. Some wouldn’t even give us the time of day, Hadrian. They go out of their way to ensure we don’t belong, and yet you bring your sister into this...place. What’s wrong with being home, where she’s safe? Where she’s protected? She need protection right now, you both do – I read about what happened!”

“It wasn’t safe,” Hadrian said simply.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Lily asked before he could say anything else. Her voice was dripping with doubt.

“It really wasn’t, mum,” Anemone said, practically willing Lily to believe her. “We are better off being here.”

“Here? I doubt it. Your father put up much stronger wards, and the House is nearly unplottable!”

“It’s not that!”

“Are you still talking about that incident, Anne? I agree that he should never have hit you, Harry, but he is sorry. He told me about that incident and he promised to be better in the future, and I’m sure he apologized to you too. How many times do you expect him to apologize for one smack? He’s not perfect, but no one is. I know you don’t like it when he yells, to be frank I don’t either, but your father has a stressful job and when he comes home and has to deal with your little rebellions, of course he’s going to be upset! He’s worried about you – you stopped listening to him, you spend time with the wrong people... You will understand when you have your own family.”

The anger was cold. The sense of overwhelming injustice, like when Charles told him to stop being an attention seeker and a liar, made his chest feel constricted. Not only because of what he just heard, but because Charles and Lily both blindly believed whatever James told them without even giving him the benefit of the doubt. They even went so far as to ignore the evidence right in front of them so they wouldn’t have to admit that James lied to them. James lied constantly to cover up his mistakes, he told them that Hadrian was the liar, and they just believed him! And why? Because he was _Head Auror_ , because he was an _authority_.

“We have always worked so hard so you can live comfortably, to teach you right from wrong,” Lily said, sitting forward a little in her chair. “We’ve tried so hard to keep you on the right path, Harry. Where did we go wrong? Was it your friends? Did they fill your head with this rubbish?” She shook her head lightly, her eyes imploring him to apologize, to fall back in line, to admit he was wrong about everything. But he wouldn’t, he _couldn’t_ , go back to how things were. “I should never have let you run off with them during your breaks. Vacations in mansions, fancy balls...Dumbledore warned us about this. I should have stopped it before it began. What will think when they hear you’ve left home to cozy up to the Blacks? They’re dark wizards, you know this. What did they offer you that was so compelling you would ignore the fact that they want to exterminate all of us? That if muggle hunting was still legal, they would be the first ones out there?” Lily seemed to realize how close she was to yelling she was and purposefully lowered her voice. “You used dark magic- no, you’ve _been_ using dark magic for a long time, but I’m sure everyone can forgive – ”

“I won’t.” This time Hadrian interrupted her. He wouldn’t be forgiving anyone in the near future. “We won’t be coming back to the cottage. And I won’t forgive him when he’s lying,” he said firmly. “He broke my cheekbone. I had a concussion. He hit me so hard my head bounced of the cabinet in his office, and the moment he saw blood he panicked, enervated me, fixed the cut, cast wrong type of _stagnatio_ and let me go to my room. That’s it. He never checked on me, never said anything. I glamoured myself, I tried to hide it because I was ashamed and scared. Anemone and Charles had to help me out of my bathroom because I was vomiting and I could barely walk straight. And I missed the train, did you know that? Mr. Boot had to heal me before I could go to Hogwarts, he and Lord Goldstein can both provide a memory. Anne as well. I suppose Charles could too, but the point is that James lied. And that wasn’t even the first time he pushed me around. I won’t go back to that house, and neither will Anemone.”

Hadrian was surprised by how even his voice was. He couldn’t keep the anger and hurt from it, but he was much calmer than he expected himself to be. Maybe it was the Calming Draught he was still on, but he didn’t feel any guilt or sorrow when he saw his mother’s confidence crumble. There was no compassion, no need to comfort... Maybe a small hint of sick satisfaction, but nothing more. He’d expected to feel... _more_ whenever he envisioned this conversation.

“I never told you because I was sure you’d do nothing about it. You’re either gone or you just pretend everything is fine when it’s not. I don’t… I don’t think I can rely on you. I still remember when Anemone was so sick, she was delirious. She spent three weeks in that hospital bed. The healers were in a frenzy, none of us knew what was going to happen, and _you weren’t there_. You sent a letter as if it was a flu. And now? We almost died week ago. Almost. Died. I know they informed you. They were required to. And you weren’t there yet again. No message, no floo call, nothing. So you don’t get to judge me for casting spells James thinks are dark. I had to do something in self-defense. I would have done anything to keep Anemone safe, anything. I don’t care if you think it was dark, I would do again in a heartbeat.” He spat the last words with more venom that he’d originally intended. Of course that was her main concern – he was making their family of light wizards look bad. Nothing was published yet, but that could either be the journalists preparing material for a larger piece or it could be James exerting his power to do some damage control.

“And when you write letters, you just talk about yourself,” Anemone added in a timid voice. “There’s maybe a sentence or two relating to my letter, but the rest is about where you’ve been, what you’ve been doing, what you’ve discovered and with whom. I don’t think you pay enough attention to know what I do during the year, what my favorite classes are or who I’m friends with.”

Hadrian knew that this had weighed heavily on her mind for a long time. She’d never dared voice her thoughts to their mother or father, after all.

“I think I talk to Andromeda more often in a month than I talk to you in a whole year. And you never pay attention when we do talk. I know you love your work but it’s like you love it more than us. You are always brushing us off.”

Hadrian let that sink in for a moment, letting Lily feel the full impact of Anemone’s words, then voiced the final question that had been haunting him for a while now.

“You knew about the ritual, didn’t you?” It would make sense if she knew something had happened. She was an incredibly intelligent woman, and Hadrian looked very different from Charles and Anemone.

Lily worried her lower lip, not quite meeting his eyes.

“I knew that something was wrong after it. Your father was so mad.”

“Which one? James or Sirius?” He couldn’t help himself, the cutting words just slipped out, but he also couldn’t bring himself to regret them.

“You will not speak to me like that! I am your mother and you owe me respect!” she shouted suddenly, making him and Anemone jump. That was the first time Hadrian heard Lily shout in his entire life.

“I owe you nothing. Respect is earned,” Hadrian said, his lips set in a thin line, even as he tried to look unbothered.

He hated when people said things like that. _They’re your parents, you owe them respect_. He didn’t owe them anything. He didn’t ask to be born – they decided to have a child. They didn’t respect him. They didn’t care about him. Hadrian had no respect to either of them as parents. He could respect Lily as a potioneer and an inventor. He could respect James as an auror who made his way from the trainee to the Head of the Department in normal way without underserved promotion. They weren’t the worst people on earthbut they weren’t good parents either.

“Is it because of James that Sirius is nearly permanently on the continent?” he pushed. He could hear Anemone gasping when she caught up to where he was going with that question.

Lily didn’t have to answer, the expression on her face did it for her.

“Did father really think you had an affair?” Anemone asked and Hadrian looked at her. He hadn’t heard about that. “I heard it from a friend whose uncle is an auror,” she said, turning her head in his direction. “I thought it was stupid, but they said he asked to switch partners so he wasn’t working directly with Sirius anymore and now that you said it…”

Anemone didn’t have to explain further. Rumors about James suspecting an affair? A change of partners? Sirius on the continent? Him looking like a Black? Lily knew both of Black brothers. One through James, one through Snape, whom she worked with often. Was James narcissistic enough to think first that his wife had an affair rather than the distinct possibility that he made a mistake during a ritual he knew nearly nothing about? Honestly, Hadrian wouldn’t be surprised.

“He did, didn’t he?” he asked, looking at Lily, who was sitting with her lips pressed tight together. “You never tried to figure out what was wrong, did you? You didn’t want to, because it would be a scandal. Do you care about anything that isn’t your work or reputation?”

Despite his questions, he didn’t care enough to continue pressing. He didn’t want to hear her excuses or justifications, he didn’t care about James’ and Lily’s business, it was too much to process right now. He tried valiantly to stop the thought that all of the problems in his family stemmed from him, that he was the main reason James and Sirius weren’t friends anymore and that Remus was depressed and all alone, trying to trudge through life without his life-long friends and partner. Maybe he was even the reason his mother stayed away from home.

He really didn’t want to think about it.

“We won’t be coming home. Grandmother took over my guardianship as Regent Potter at my request,” Anemone said a bit shakily, though still confident. “You can write to me if you’d like to, and we can meet here if grandmother lets us, or in public with supervision... I’m sorry.” She tacked on the apology at the end as if to soften the blow. Anemone was like that.

Hadrian was proud of her for speaking her mind and for sticking to the decision she’d made.

“How can you stand to be surrounded by dark wizards?” Lily asked, her voice practically a hiss. Hadrian had no idea if the tears in her eyes were a ploy, but she was clearly frustrated and was no longer trying to hide it.

“If Hadrian is a dark wizard, then I am a dark witch. I suppose dark people stick together,” Anemone said angrily, her voice rising. “If Hadrian isn’t there, then what? Maybe dad will push me and hit me because I have the same friends and learn the same spells, is that what you want? You won’t even apologize to him! To us! Do you actually care?”

That must have caught Lily off guard, because for a moment she was unable to find the words to say.

“Do you hear her? She’s repeating after you! She never would have said this before – how could you turn her away from us? We’re her family, isn’t family supposed to be more important than anything else? You spend so much time with traditionalists, you should know!” She turned on Hadrian again.

“I guess we were never much of a family to begin with,” Hadrian said, suddenly feeling very drained.

He was tired and it felt like this conversation was falling into a pattern now, and no matter what he said the end result would be that he was somehow at fault for something. Even though she knew Hadrian had never lied about his abilities, that James had broken his cheekbone and lied to her afterward, she still wouldn’t acknowledge that she’d been wrong.

What has became of them that he couldn’t force himself to bad about it? He just wanted her to go. She would eventually, he knew – she’d go somewhere far away, Cuba or Korea maybe, and she’d forget to write for months on end – so why bother pretending otherwise? They might as well go back to normal now. Well, as normal as not speaking to one another except for three or four letters per year could be.

“Is everything alright?”

They turned their heads to the entrance of the sitting room, where Dorea was standing looking as proper as always.

“Yes, grandmother. We have finished talking,” Hadrian said, and Anemone nodded.

“We are going to study in the library. I need help with the last Transfiguration lesson, I still don’t get it,” she added.

Their trunks arrived at the Potter Manor before them, along with notes and homework, and since Anemone was going to be attending classes the next day, she wanted to work on her Transmutation with him. She was awful at it and somewhat scared of McGonagall, so she was always extremely stressed out when something went wrong. Not that McGonagall singled her out or anything, she just could be very intimidating at times.

“What have you been teaching them? Where are they going to be now?” Lily asked reproachfully before their grandmother even had time to answer. “How did you get in contact with them anyway? James talked to you years ago, and I thought we had an understanding. We wanted nothing to do with you.”

“I did what had to be done, Lily. Finally. I thought that distancing myself would be right decision, but I was clearly wrong. Tinkerbell would show you the door.”

The elf popped into existence beside table between Lily and them.

“I am their mother, I have the right to know! You can’t just make decisions for me!”

“You married into a noble house, you are legally obligated to respect our laws, which are very clear on the matter. As the Head of the Family, I am able to make decisions for every member of it, and I am choosing to exercise that right. What’s more, Hadrian is a Black. Lord Arcturus Black has already petitioned for his custody, which will be granted this afternoon by the Wizengamot in an accelerated proceeding, as I have no intention of disputing it.”

Lily drew her wand so quickly that Hadrian didn’t even notice it until the elf had taken it from her. “You is not attacking Mistress. You is leaving.”

“Do I need to call the aurors? It wouldn’t look well if the Head Auror’s wife was escorted off the premises by force.”

“I will go by myself,” Lily said, her nostrils flaring.

Lily shot both Anemone and Hadrian a look of betrayal, as if she couldn’t understand why they were doing this to her. And why they should feel guilty when she’d practically abandoned them whenever it struck her fancy, then played at being the perfect, happy family the rest of the time was beyond him. Hadrian had no words. He couldn’t understand. Was there something wrong with their mother? Like mentally wrong? How was she able to ignore everything unless it was about her? She’d somehow managed to make their whole conversation about her, and the family image. She never once asked how they were feeling or if they were coping with everything. She hadn’t even asked just Anemone, like he’d expected. He was already lost to the dark and not worth caring for in Lily’s opinion, that much was obvious, but she didn’t even try to seem like she cared about Anemone.

*

Hadrian Castor Black. That was his new name. There were no doubts, no disputes, among the members of the Wizengamot. It took all of thirty minutes, including the ten minutes it took to officially open the session and to leave the room after. Reporters were already waiting outside hoping to get the best photos and a few quotes for their articles the next morning. Hadrian was grateful that his presence wasn’t required. Lord Black apparated them both quickly to avoid the throng of reporters and photographers, but James didn’t have the same luck.

He hadn’t shown up in the Wizengamot Chambers would both work well here, depending on the feeling you want to invoke), but a large group of journalists caught up to him in the Atrium. Someone from St. Mungo’s must have said something to the reporters, as they were all asking uncomfortable and straight up vicious questions, according to Anthony, whose father had been nearby and seen the whole thing. They’d purposefully provoked him, and based on the photos and article titles, it had worked fabulously. His angry, red face was plastered all over the front of the newspapers.

_POTTER FAMILY CUTS TIES WITH CHILDREN FOR USING MAGIC?_

_NELGLETFUL AND AGGRESSIVE: WHAT ELSE IS JAMES POTTER HIDDING?_

_“THE ONLY TIME HE VISITED, HE TRIED TO HIT HIS SON!” THEY SAW IT AND THEY AGREED TO TELL IT ALL!_

_FIGHTING GLARING INCOMPETENCE – WHY RITUALISTIC MAGIC SHOULD RETURN TO HOGWARTS Interview with the Minister of Magic, Tom Marvolo Riddle_

A lot of authors adopted a narrative that made him some kind of hero. They praised him for his quick thinking and knowledge and speculated whether he would enter the Auror Force in the future. Even if Hadrian had considered it at some point, he wouldn’t be trying for that now.

From the start Hadrian was worried about the backlash, but even the articles written by Rita Skeeter in _The Daily Prophet_ weren’t aimed at him, his grandmother or Lord Black. It was unusualbut Hadrian could understand that even she didn’t dare write something negative about a Lord without some sort of insurance. Skeeter was a freelance reporter known for writing long exclusives filled with hard-hitting questions and photographs or scandalous pieces focused for some reason on the Ministry and Dumbledore. This was no exception. She took both facts and rumors and spun them together into a compelling exposé about James’ neglect, aggression and some of the suspicious orders he’d given, then filled it to the brim with vicious jabs at both James and Dumbledore. And throughout the whole thing, Hadrian’s name was mentioned exactly once.

“If she could have spat on Dumbledore, she would,” his grandmother told him when he brought that up during breakfast once he’d finished with the paper. “She’s quiet about us because it’s in her best interests, though she may be staying her hand a little more than necessary because she feels indebted. It’s an old scandal, you know. I was in Hogwarts with her mother, Venita Burke. She was a year under me. Her parents arranged a marriage for her with the second son of the late Lord Bulstrode. I remember she was so pleased about the match, despite his quick temper – the Bulstrode’s had a lot of promising investments, you see. They got married almost the moment she graduated, but they had problems conceiving. It was a shock when young Rita was born, truly. I don’t know how or why, but Bulstrode accused her of infidelity, and disowned her and Rita before Lord Bulstrode or her family could intervene. He stripped them of their name. No respectable family wanted to initiate a contract after that, of course, Venita would have brought shame to the family with all those accusations floating about. And no one can prove paternity after being magically disowned, nor would it have mattered. So she married Skeeter, a rich muggleborn who didn’t care about the scandal and was willing to give Rita his name. He owned the majority of shares in _The Prophet_ , but he lost his money and standing not long after marrying Venita. There were rumors floating around at the time that he had a drinking problem.”

She paused to think, taking a moment to sip her tea.

“He had to have died before she went to Hogwarts,” she finally said. “I was Charles’ proxy on the Board of Governers and one year Venita filled out a request to grant Rita a stipend. It was mainly used for orphans, but it could be granted to anyone who had financial need. The Headmaster has the deciding vote and Dumbledore said ‘no’ – apparently Venita worked and had a stable source of income. Honestly, before that I didn’t know her situation was bad enough for her to request the stipend, as we’d fallen out of contact for several years. Shortly after Dumbledore announced his decision, I saw her working at a second-hand bookshop. She was absolutely furious. She’d had to take out a Gringotts loan to pay for Rita’s schooling, and she’d had to resort to begging her friends and family to loan her the money to pay off the loan before too much interest built up. I gave her a loan myself, she was just too proud to take money from anyone without paying it back, and she didn’t want to too large an amount from anyone.” She paused and reached for a small pastry with strawberry filling. “I think Rita was in her fifth year when Arthur Weasley entered Hogwarts. He came from a poor family, but both of his parents were working. He got that stipend without any trouble. Rita petitioned herself for the stipend then, Venita was too proud to ask again and N.E.W.T.’s years are more expensive, but she was denied again. Venita died sometime in her seventh year – heart attack, the work and stress was too much for her health – so I canceled the debt. It wasn’t a significant amount for us, we have more expensive carpets in this manor.”

Hadrian hadn’t expected to hear a story like this. It was sad from the beginning to the end, and he couldn’t fathom how Rita must have felt watching her mother literally work herself to death when Arthur Weasley was able to attend even with two working parents. The injustice was jarring, and he would want to make Dumbledore’s life as difficult as possible if he were in her shoes. Maybe he wouldn’t choose constant defamation, cheap speculations or rumors about his life in the press, but he would think of something.

“Have you heard anything from your friends about Anemone?”

Anemone had gone back to Hogwarts that morning and she felt extremely uneasy about it. Michael and Anthony had assured him they would look out for her along with people from the study group. They had also already talked to the Hufflepuff prefect, Cedric Diggory, to ask him to keep his eye on her as well. The conversation had apparently gone smoothly, as Hufflepuffs weren’t typically the type to abandon one of their own.

“I’ll ask them in the afternoon, I doubt she’s even finished her first lesson yet.” It was also easier to talk in the afternoon once classes finished up for the day. His friends didn’t run the risk of getting caught not paying attention, and he didn’t have to wait hours for a response.

Hadrian really missed his friends. He was thankful that Terry thought of those planners and succeeded in making them with his mother. The spells would typically fade away, but Hadrian took upon himself to cast permanence spells and renew them when he saw they were too faded. Even his grandmother was impressed with their creativity.

When he took his out after he finally got to unpacking his trunk with Tinkerbell, the amount of messages waiting for him was tremendous. Anthony and Michael were extremely worried, especially after Terry told them what was going on. Hadrian hadn’t had any actual answers as he didn’t know for sure what was going to happen, but writing with them helped him to relax a bit. Watching them bicker was nice. They haven’t spoken more about the Forest apart from Terry describing everything he could, including the part when he was unconscious. Mr. Jeremiah had to tell him what exactly happened, but Hadrian didn’t mind. He didn’t have the strength to talk about it again or to straighten rumors. And besides which, the press had already written about his side of things.

They’d written back and forth with each other for a while after Lily left. It helped Hadrian to keep his mind off the Wizengamot. He knew what was going to happen, but the dark thoughts wormed their way into his head anyway. Logically he knew it was highly unlikely anything would go wrong, and in the end nothing had, but he’d been nervous despite himself until the very last moment.

When the Wizengamot session was open, he’d distracted himself in the library, which was his favorite place in whole manor. It was a spacious room with enormous windows overlooking the garden and floor-to-ceiling bookcases against the walls. The book collection was not as impressive as that of the Goldsteins, but Hadrian found some books on wards and warding he had not read yet. They were mostly introducing the subject but one in particular had a lot information that one should consider before they started creating, activating or approaching unknown wards. The book also contained a plethora of spells to detect wards, to distinguish between them and to protect the warder from their influence. It was very old and dusty.

There was some sort of finality that came with Lord Black gaining custody. All of the paperwork had been completed, his vault would be transferred under a new name, he would officially be a child of three parents. Not to mention, he would be introduced to Walburga and Orion soon enough, along with the rest of the family, which was a lot bigger than he thought it was. It made him terribly uneasy. He heard a lot about them and even if Sirius wasn’t entirely accurate when it came to Arcturus Black, his description of Walburga seemed to align with everyone else’s. Of course, Hadrian couldn’t dismiss Sirius’ opinions about Lord Black entirely. There was still a large chance that his mannerisms would dramatically change if he was displeased, after all. Sirius did a lot as a teenager, and when he rebelled, he did it aggressively and stubbornly.

If he was being completely honest with himself, Hadrian was most worried about meeting Walburga now that he’d already met Arcturus Black. Her fits and temper tantrums were legendary amongst the British wizarding aristocracy. Even on a good day, she generally made a nuisance of herself while in public, and was considered unpleasant and snobbish by anyone she met. Walburga was more often than not the object of rumors during balls or social events. Even Lady Goldstein complained about her once or twice.

Cassiopeia Black, his grandmother’s sister, was a legend of a completely different caliber. She was known to be an unbeatable duelist who resigned with grace from competing to focus more on curse-breaking and traveling. There were rumors that she possessed dirt on almost every influential person in England and a good amount of wizards and witches on the continent. But what was most impressive was the fact that she had four Masteries and was a genius in spell creation. Meeting her would be like a dream for Hadrian, even if she had Walburga’s attitude.

Her books were amazing. She’d written five, to Hadrian’s knowledge, and he’d found three of them accidentally while shopping at a second-hand bookstore with Anthony, Michael, and Terry. They were searching through the shelves and Hadrian crouched in front of the massive bookshelf full on both sides. He hadn’t had much luck in finding anything interesting. He was just standing up when the clerk noticed him. She was a fragile looking older witch with gray hair and severe face, but she was exceptionally nice. Hadrian had talked with her few times so she knew him and what books he was looking for, so it wasn’t unusual that she came up to him to show him something she thought he would like. The moment he saw Cassiopeia Black’s books, he bought them with wide smile. They were expensive as far as second-hand books went, but their price was much lower than it would be if he bought them somewhere else. He had no doubt that the clerk liked him even more because he didn’t try to haggle down the price and didn’t mind paying what the book was worth. Hadrian suspected people that shopped there were looking mainly for old schoolbooks because whole front of the shop was filled with them, along with children books and guides. They were cheap and priced fairly, but most people weren’t amicable to spending much time or money there if they had any other choice. Typically the people who had money didn’t make purchases there at all. Anthony had to be bribed with ice creams to step inside the first time Hadrian brought them here.

Hadrian had seen the rest of the Black family genealogy tree, but he couldn’t get much from that apart from who was alive and who wasn’t. It was a very effective tool to work him up about how many people he would have to meet when Lord Black decided it was time, though.

By now the whole family had to know about him. All he could do was wait for the letters or Lord Black’s instructions – stressing about it was pointless, he knew, but he couldn’t help himself. He was sleeping poorly, so he spent a lot time musing about various things, though images of a miserable future seemed to monopolize his mind. It was probably the most unhealthy thing he’d ever put himself through. Often the things he imaged were completely ridiculous, but it cost him a lot of sleep and turned him into a bundle of nerves. On nights like the one right before he met his grandmother and Regulus, he worked himself up so much that he would vomit, which was both disgusting and tiring. His mind just wouldn’t stop coming up with these scenarios, though, and he had no idea how to stop it.

Ever since the incident with the Forest, his sleep had been even more disrupted. He was sleep deprived, having nightmares whenever he did finally manage to drift off, and nothing really helped. He couldn’t take Dreamless Sleep anymore, the teas his grandmother found in the apothecary tasted awful and while clearing his mind before sleep like Healer Shafiq recommended helped him fall asleep easier, it was hard to do and he was still waking up in terrified in the middle of the night. The house elves started leaving gentle lights all around his room, especially in the corners. It helped him a lot, as he could see everything around him and calm himself back down quicker.

Hadrian didn’t even want to think about how he’d be reacting if he wasn’t on the Calming Draught. It was already bad enough when he was taking four vials throughout the day.

*

It didn’t take long for Walburga to write. Her letter was as official and pretentious as it could get. She let him know that they were visiting Cygnus and Druella in France, and that they wouldn’t be back until after his end of the year exams. She told him that he now had a duty to the Black Family – he was to do them proud and to be a worthy scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House. She expressed her regret that the family meeting would have to be postponed due to his recovery, per Lord Black’s orders. It didn’t sound even remotely sincere, but Hadrian wasn’t really expecting anything else. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. He’d expected a paragraph or two dedicated to insulting Sirius, and at least a few about ambiguity regarding his blood status. Not to mention, he’d half-expected Walburga to demand an introduction the moment Arcturus Black exited the Wizengamot meeting with his custody in hand. Did Walburga want grandchildren badly enough to curb her notoriously boorish behavior? Or perhaps Lord Black spoke with her? Both were possible.

And Sirius… Hadrian tried to pretend he wasn’t all that disappointed when Sirius hadn’t replied to his letter, but honestly it struck him harder than Lily’s visit, James covering his mistakes with lies or Charlie telling Anemone he wasn’t their brother anymore.

Hadrian talked about it with their grandmother, as he had no idea how to reply. It was surprisingly nice to talk though his thoughts with a family member that didn’t want to hurt him and who tried to be there for him. She suggested that Anemone might not be quite ready for the consequences of taking his side nor the finality of it. She was a sensitive person, and might still hope Charles would understand, even though they had never been particularly close to him. If Hadrian wasn’t so sure that Anemone understood what had happened and saw everything how it was, he would feel horribly guilty.

He still felt some measure of guilt despite feeling as though it was better for them. Multiple people told him what he did was right in that situation. Still, it was very likely that by standing by him and keeping the same friend group as his own, Anemone would be the next target for James. The difference was, she wouldn’t have anyone to rely on to help her get away from the situation. They would probably try to firmly separate them, so Hadrian wouldn’t even know if anything happened during the summer break.

He decided to tell his grandmother that Sirius had never replied, especially as she wasn’t hiding from him what she thought about his other father. That was one thing he adored about her even when he was a child – she never hid the truth from him, though she did her best to respond to his questions in a way that he could understand. Now she didn’t have to think about ways to explain things in child-friendly words, she outright told him that in her opinion, responsibility and confrontation weren’t Sirius’s strong suit. Avoidance on the other hand was his way to go. He could aknowledge his mistakes, but couldn’t deal with the person afterwards, especially if he cared about them or felt obligated to protect them. From what Hadrian knew, it fit.

Dorea told him about the time Sirius accidentally pushed Regulus into the pond. Regulus choked on water and struck his elbow on the stone, but was more scared than hurt. Sirius was severely reprimanded for this, and although he promised to never be so reckless while playing around the pond again, he didn’t apologize to Regulus for a good two weeks, even going so far as to avoid the boy entirely. After that, he acted like nothing had happened at all.

Similarly, he never talked to Snape about the incident with the Whomping Willow or apologized for it. Dorea believed he felt guilty almost immediately after he realized what the consequences of his actions would have been. Remus already thought himself a monster, and he could have actually _killed_ Snape. It was a prank borne of thoughtless cruelty, and Remus would have been the one to bear the consequences of it.

She looked a little pensive and resigned when she told him that after the Whomping Willow incident, she and her husband asked James what he was thinking, counting on remorse or even loud acknowledgement that he and Sirius done something that could have ended in tragedy. It was supposedly the first time that she asked herself what went wrong because instead of that, James told them that he had stopped Snape only because if he was killed, they would have to face consequences. He didn’t care at all about Snape’s life or health. He was afraid that someone would have held him responsible. Hadrian was aware that his father could be cruel, but he had no idea he would admit to his parents that the only thing holding him back was the possibility of prison time.

Hadrian wondered if he now fell in the same category of people as young Severus Snape. He thought about it for a while, which prompted him to ponder if James would disinherit or disown him. Technically he could, and it would cut all of his ties to the Potter family but t would also look awful on his records. The press would feast on the scandal, milking it with glee. They had already explored the failed ritual, which could be explained as the simple mistake of a young man which had results he’d never expected. The general public might buy that, but the pureblood society and those who were even remotely educated in ritualistic magic? To them, this undermined his authority and competency levels quite badly, even if it could be partially explained by a lack of experience.

The Minister used it as a perfect example to explain why Ritualistic Magic should be taught at Hogwarts again, and Hadrian could see his point. If Sirius and James had it as a subject, they would have to learn some basics, and wouldn’t have been so quick to modify anything. In addition, rituals were a huge part of the wizarding world, tradition and heritage. It felt wrong to prevent muggleborns from learning about them, even if not everyone would use the opportunity and the knowledge in the future. Oaths and vows counted as lesser rituals, but they could impact one’s life quicker and easier. Some people could do with a reminder that, in their world, words had a power.

Hadrian was aware his case would be probably used as an example, which would make him some kind of catalyst in the eyes of anyone against Riddle’s politics. His name would be mentioned and used as an argument in the debate, because it was the newest and the most unexpected scandal. Adding to that, he decided to testify against Dumbledore and Hagrid in the court, which shocked a lot of people and was probably taken as a political statement. That would only serve to separate him even further from any light families and make his relationship with Charles even more strained. If they still had any.

That trial was one of the most stressful experiences of Hadrian’s life with all side effects he was still experiencing. He couldn’t sleep or hold anything down even two days before. While Crouch was questioned under Veritaserum and quickly sentenced after interrogation reports were read to complete his testimony, in this case Hadrian had to speak in front of the whole Wizengamot, and all of them could ask him to elaborate or explain something, though by law it was technically the Minister who chaired the hearing. It was also the first time Hadrian saw Riddle in person. He was a handsome man in his forties, with dark hair and eyes, nicely shaped eyebrows and sharp jaw line. Regal and elegant, with air of confidence around him. He spoke with rare eloquence, easily focusing the attention of the entire room like it was nothing. He moved with a purpose and self-assurance, which many others lacked.

James looked unfazed when Hadrian saw him in the court seated in a place for the Auror Department Representative, although he couldn’t be happy with Hadrian and Anemone testifying against Dumbledore and Hagrid. Words against them were probably words against light wizards as a whole in his opinion. Hadrian planned to open up at his hearing, even if it didn’t provoke any inspections. A little payback to expose and undermine James further. It was hard to dismiss the Head Auror but it wasn’t impossible. Every doubt counted, and with a majority vote in the Wizengamot, James could be voted out.

There was no public involved in this trial. Probably because they were minors and there was some regulation that deemed the public an unnecessary stress factor, but Hadrian was really grateful for that. That and the chair. Normally one would testify while standing but Hadrian was so winded by going from the apparition point to the Wizengamot Chamber, it was quickly ordered from the guard. No one protested.

He had to look upward, as everyone’s seats were on the gallery, which was good five feet higher than him. The walls and the ceiling were dark. Polished marble and ebony wood complemented the wall, serving only to add to the air of seriousness within. As an intimidation technique it all worked really well together. Every member of the Wizengamot and the employees of the Ministry seemed to look down on him, their faces impassive and stern.

He saw his grandmother on the seat that belonged to the Potter family. The familiar faces of Lords Goldstein, Corner and Black weren’t comforting, but it motivated him to try and keep himself together. And there was no big breakdown or tears. He must have been pale, because his face felt cold, but his voice was steady and he answered all the questions. Hagrid told Anemone that he reported hurt unicorns to Dumbledore. McGonagall appointed their detention to be supervised by Hagrid. He had no idea if it was her idea or Dumbledore’s. Yes, they expressed their unease. Yes, they protested being left alone in the Forest. Yes, their concerns were dismissed.

Dumbledore sat there like nothing was wrong. Like it was all misunderstanding he hoped to explain and go home. That grandfatherly smile irked Hadrian more than James’ face. Hagrid at least looked ashamed and grim. They almost _died_. Hadrian badly wanted to wipe it off Dumbledore’s face, so when the opportunity arose, he didn’t hold himself back. _Is there anything else that could be important to this case?_ had him telling the Wizengamot about Dumbledore arriving later than McGonagall and Lupin in the Forest and arguing with Draco about the need to inform the Ministry. From that he moved swiftly to the questioning in the hospital and Auror Trainee Tonks omitting the truth in the protocol, which wouldn’t have been discovered if his grandmother didn’t insist on checking whether the recorded testimony was correct. He explained what was written, how he corrected it and how the correction was annotated and signed by him, his grandmother and Auror Brown.

This caused a huge stir and someone was immediately sent to fetch his written statement, along with Draco’s, Anemone’s and Terry’s. The murmurs were shushed, but they didn’t die off completely. Apparently no one was notified about this hiccup, which shouldn’t be that surprising. James probably covered for Tonks and turned a blind eye toward the protocols. The press representative on a small bench wrote furiously in the notepad. Hadrian could almost see tomorrow’s headlines.

In the meantime, Anemone was called forward to give her own testimony, and Hadrian was directed to a nearby bench to watch. Dumbledore was no longer smiling. In fact, he looked rather pinched when Anemone confirmed nearly everything Hadrian had said about the start of their detention, and later shared that her own statement was originally missing portions of her answers she’d given during the interview. She must have had some vindictive streak as well because she told everyone about Dumbledore ignoring bullying and allowing it to escalate, which resulted in that detention. She was clearly nervous and visibly shaking, but that did not weaken her resolve. It helped that Minister Riddle spoke in a calm, measured voice and that no one interrupted her statement even once. Hadrian had the impression that even if someone wanted to, it was against protocol to do so. And Dumbledore was so sure of himself. Maybe he simply assumed that because they were young and impressionable, they would be scared of the Wizengamot. Maybe even scared of him. They’d heard stories about the Great Albus Dumbledore since they were really young, after all, and that kind of indoctrination worked on some people.

Terry’s and Draco's versions of the events were no different from Anemone’s and Hadrian's. Draco described his argument with Dumbledore in more detail. He was questioned by a different pair of Aurors and there were no alterations made to his statement. Terry, on the other hand, didn’t know if Dumbledore knew about the unicorns, so he only answered that McGonagall assigned them detention under Hagrid, which was written down correctly.

The statements were passed around once they’d been retrieved, and they were all dismissed so the Wizengamot had time to debate Hadrian could feel Dumbledore’s eyes on him, which made him extremely uneasy. He had no desire to talk with the Headmaster, who would undoubtedly wish to guilt trip him or say something about how he was failing the light. He would be more worried if he didn’t know that Narcissa was waiting for them outside with Mr. and Mrs. Boot. They were allowed to leave then, as Lord Malfoy accused Dumbledore and Hagrid on behalf of his underaged son, and they weren’t a party in the dispute, which was the plan. His grandmother was on the fence with allowing him to testify in the first place, but in the end she allowed Anemone and Hadrian to make their own decisions provided they return home immediately. They were not to wait for the Wizengamot to deliberate nor to announce the results. 

There was no saying how long it was going to take before they would announce the sentence, so they would be walked by Lady Malfoy to the fireplaces and going back to the Potter Manor alone.

Dumbledore was waiting just outside the door when he exited the hall, and Hadrian looked first to Anemone, then to the Malfoys. Words weren’t necessary.

“Mr. Potter, Miss Potter, my children, won’t you talk with me for a while?” Dumbledore asked just as Hadrian thought he would when they reached the corridor.

“It’s Black now, sir. Excuse me, but I have to return home. Healer’s orders, you see,” he replied keeping polite tone while Anemone stayed quiet. They didn’t break their stride nor change direction, walking directly to the where Narcissa was waiting with Terry’s parents.

Dumbledore fell into step with them.

“Surely a minute wouldn’t hurt –” he began, but Narcissa interrupted him.

“Anemone, boys, there you are. I was worried it would take longer. Excuse us, Headmaster, I promised to see Hadrian and Anemone home. They ought to be tired by now. The healers weren’t sure about allowing Hadrian to testify, poor darling,” she said with a practiced smile and expertly maneuvered herself between them and Dumbledore, leading them to the lifts on the left side of the corridor. “Terry, your parents are waiting for you as well. I trust you are healing well? It’s such a relief after all that horrid situation! I heard you still have migraines, Anemone?” she chattered without a pause all the way to the lifts. Mr. Boot already pushed the button, calling one to them, and they all squeezed inside, conveniently leaving no place for Dumbledore, who didn’t even try to ride with them.

Hadrian pushed himself to the wall, wanting to make some space for himself. He hated when people stood so close to him that he had absolutely no space, but it was necessary now if he didn’t want to spend more time in the same corridor as Dumbledore.

He only hoped that Dumbledore wouldn’t want to talk with him or Anemone at Hogwarts.

*

Hadrian was never particularly worried about his end of the year exams – he always felt prepared for them and didn’t expect himself to be on top of every class. He was a bit worried about working through a month of material by himself, but in reality it wasn’t that problematic. He wasn’t wasting time traipsing from one end of the castle to another just to get to his next class, and he could learn theory at his own pace. The only problem he was facing currently was with practice. This was solved only three weeks after he was admitted to St. Mungo’s, when he was told by his grandmother’s personal healer that he could practice again. Though he was not to overwork himself under any circumstances, which he understood. The first time he used magic after he got the green light, it left him breathless and dizzy. Was magic a bit like a muscle? It certainly added a point to things he wanted to research.

Terry took it upon himself to visit all Hadrian’s professors and get them to list the material they would introduce in the classes until the exams, so Hadrian could learn it at the same time as them. It was a great idea, although Hadrian could easily just read the last chapters of the books and wouldn’t miss anything. The professors themselves unproblematic. Some of them just dictated spells, or in Snape's case potions, that Terry had written down for him, and some, like Professor Babbling, simply sent Hadrian owls.

Her owl arrived in the morning with a thick envelope, which was given to him by Tinkerbell after dinner. He was a bit wary about what was inside, and when he pulled out around thirty pages of worksheets his face must have been hilarious because his grandmother smirked, amused at his disbelief. Part of him was excited, but did she think he had nothing else to do but Runes? Did she always go crazy like that by the end of the year? And she wanted him to send each worksheet back immediately after he completed it! Hadrian worked though it painstakingly and slowly, dedicating a good four hours to it per day, and then took care of the rest. It was worse than last year when they were cramming up to the last minute, because those three additional subjects really did make a difference.

His grandmother was good with potions, so once a week she sat with him in the laboratory for as long as he needed to work his way through something from Snape’s list. It was only five potions, so he was able to finish quickly and start revising from the beginning. The Potions exam always had a practical portion, which was in Hadrian’s opinion the hardest. They couldn’t have any lists of ingredients nor instructions, and brewing from the memory was rather hard, especially when Snape could just randomly choose one of fifteen or twenty potions.

Despite knowing he was ready for the exams, Hadrian was a bit on the edge moments before he had to floo Hogwarts. He was supposed to arrive straight at Flitwick’s office, from which he would be going to the right classroom, and then back to the office so he could return to the manor. He had no idea how his grandmother arranged it, but he was glad he didn’t have to stay the night. Not that he hadn’t everybody, but just thinking about all the looks and whispers that were bound to follow him made his skin crawl. Anemone and the others told him about the rumors making their rounds through the castle.

Some people thought he was a brave survivor, some thought he was a next maniacal Dark Lord and should be expelled, like Grindelwald was expelled from Durmstrang. There were even voices saying he snapped and would kill his dorm mates soon. The worst was Ginevra Weasley, who told everyone he was either taking revenge on Ronald and wanted him dead, or that he was heartless – after all he left her brother on the ground and because of that Ronald lost his ear and would never regain full mobility in his left hand. His friends and year mates from Ravenclaw and Slytherin stood beside him in this whole mess, for which he was grateful. Penelope Clearwater wrote him a warm letter asking if she could help somehow with organizing something like notes, which was nice as well. She didn’t have to, even if she was the Head Girl.

His arrival to Flitwick’s office could have been more graceful, as he stumbled into a thick rug and nearly fell flat on his face, but Hadrian resigned himself to never getting a hold of landing after any form of magical transportation if he wasn’t held. No matter what he tried he couldn't keep his balance, but at least he’d mastered spells to get rid of ash and dirt.

“It’s nice to see you, Mr. Black. I would gladly chat, but I don’t want to keep you from your friends. I think it’s safe to say they missed you – they’ve been waiting out in the corridor for a good twenty minutes already,” Flitwick said with a good-natured smile. The tiny half-wizard, half-goblin was one of Hadrian’s favorite professors in Hogwarts. He always tried to stay fair and nonbiased, which was rarer than one would think. Flitwick was also calm and patient, Hadrian never heard him yelling.

Flitwick looked weirdly out of place in his office. It was very elegant and modern, completely different from a medieval castle with suits of armor and loud portraits, where cobwebs and dust were the norm. The professor himself, though, looked like many older wizards – torn from another era in his tailcoat with ornate embroidery. It all created a slightly baffling image.

“Thank you for allowing me to use your fireplace, sir,” Hadrian said with a smile of his own. He felt the professor’s eyes on him, as if Flitwick was checking him over for any visible injuries, a limp or possible scarring. He had none, for which he was grateful. Only Weasley’s injuries were permanent.

“That wasn’t a problem at all. Now, go and make Ravenclaw House proud.”

Hadrian was aware that everyone was quite excited to finally see him again, but he only expected maybe Anthony, Terry, and Michael to show up at Flitwick’s office, not the whole study group, sans Anemone, who was writing her Herbology exam. They made a beeline for him but thankfully no one attempted to hug him, though Michael looked like he wanted to. Hadrian didn’t know how he would react and a panic attack right before Potions exam wasn’t the most ideal thing that could happen. Terry must have spoken about keeping a respectful distance.

They surrounded him like a living shield, and Hadrian didn’t have any time to start looking around for any onlookers because Mandy and Morag monopolized his attention, picking his brain about some details he barely could recall about the Wit Straightening Potion. Then Daphne was asking how he felt about Transmutation and Charms tomorrow and if he too was outraged that they thought two exams in one day was a good idea. After her was Blaise and Michael talking his ear off about Arithmancy and Astronomy, and by the end of it Hadrian couldn’t believe they were already in the dungeons and entering the classroom. They all sat near each other, and Hadrian had a separate table between Draco and Anthony, with Blaise right behind him with Morag and Daphne, while Michael, Terry and Mandy had chosen tables in front of him. That didn’t quite hide him from everyone else in the room but no one could sit too close to him and make him uncomfortable. Fortunately their year was separated into two groups for the majority of the exams, and he was writing Potions with Slytherins.

Hadrian noticed then that Theodore wasn’t with them. He’d been so overwhelmed by everything going on around him, he didn’t even think about Theodore. Padma Patil waved at him from the front of the room, which made Li and Moon turn around as well. Parkinson greeted him when she was passing by, and he was just going to look for Theodore when he saw Granger staring at him like he was some kind of dangerous magical beast. She was looking at him with caution, as if she expected him to lose it and burst into tears or maybe be terribly scarred or deformed, and he surprised her with looking completely fine and put together. It was quite irksome. When she didn’t stop, he simply raised an eyebrow and stared at her until she turned away. Daphne once told him that he could make people feel really inadequate by looking at them like that, and he was happy to see that it worked. Honestly though, hadn’t Granger figured out yet that staring was rude?

The classroom door closed with a bang.

“Clear the table. Only quills and inkwells are to remain. You will have one hour for the written exam, five minutes to set up your cauldron, and another hour for the practical portion,” Snape said in his typical drawl, prowling toward the front of the room. He halted and turned dramatically, sliding his eyes over each of them. “Mr. Black… Our new celebrity. For your sake, I hope you managed to keep up. I will not look more graciously at your work,” he drawled. He sounded like he was reprehending a spoiled child and was finding the whole ordeal to be beneath him. To say Hadrian was baffled wasn’t enough. Snape had never talked to him like that. Even Draco wasn’t expecting that either if his face was any indicator. They exchanged confused looks before Snape handed out the sheets. What was it about? Hadrian didn’t care enough to ask. Snape was just a teacher after all, but this whole one hundred eighty in the attitude was weird.

Hadrian would laugh at how aggressively everyone around him immediately started writing if he wasn’t one of them. There was little time and so much to write down because Snape had ridiculous expectations and the way he marked exams was brutal. Every detail was important, and the points could be taken off for a simple misspelling. Getting an EE was hard enough but Hadrian had his sights set on an O. He wouldn’t be disappointed if he didn’t manage it, but he worked so hard on understanding the theory behind the work they were doing that he genuinely felt like he’d earned it.

The practical part was fairly easy, although Hadrian almost added too much powdered wormwood. He saved it with wandless magic, so no harm was done, but it took a few seconds from the perfect time to add the next ingredient, which meant he had to stir once counterclockwise and his potion was back to the right color. Hadrian let it simmer for exactly ten minutes, and then he put out the fire under the cauldron. He finished labeling the vial with his name, year and the name of the potion exactly five minutes before the end of the exam, which was good. He had time to clean the table and pack his things.

He wasn’t sure that everything he had written was correct, but he had a very good feeling about the whole exam as usual. He was actually looking for spending a bit of time with everyone, unless Morag decided to go over every question in a frenzy, worried that she’d messed up something major. Ravenclaws had a tendency to do that and nothing was more irritating than coming back to their common room and hear all that ruckus of panicked students. Granger was a queen of it, but no one wanted to discuss their exams with her anymore. They let her join the conversation after the first year, because exams were a specific time for Ravenclaws, but after she made several people panic and doubt themselves by preaching how if they had better study habits, they would know their answers were correct rather than simply hoping they were. She was not allowed to participate again.

“How do you think you did?” Blaise asked him when they exited the classroom. They were amongst the first people to finish the exam, so Hadrian led them to the side so they could wait for the rest of the group without disturbing anyone. Terry was waiting for Anthony, who was still cleaning his cauldron, but he couldn’t see anyone else yet.

“It went good. Grandmother helped me with Potions a bit and her explaining made it much easier to learn,” Hadrian explained. “Circle, I hope that no one wants to go over questions.”

“I heard Morag tormenting Daphne like that. Daphne told her to stop stressing her out because stress leads to premature wrinkles.”

They both snickered. Daphne was good at ending conversations and topics when she didn’t want to talk or, at the very least, redirecting the conversation to something more preferable.

“Help me, Anthony is convinced I knew answer to every question,” Michael whisper-yelled after he found them, Anthony and Terry trailing behind him. Draco came up with Pansy and Daphne, but Morag and Mandy seemed absorbed in a discussion with rest of the Ravenclaw girls.

“Because you will be getting an O like always,” Anthony told him rolling his eyes. “What we are doing now?”

“I want to revise before Transmutation and Charms tomorrow. Does anyone have anything else today?”

“I think Divination is today,” Draco said slowly. “Crabbe and Goyle have it.”

Hadrian was never tempted to take Divination, as the rumors and whispers in their common room never had anything nice to tell about Trelawney. She always seemed completely crazy and no one really knew why she was even teaching. Her predictions of death for random students were famous and completely pointless. No one died, but it tended to scary third year Muggleborns, who took her words more seriously than anyone raised in the magic world. The rest of professors never really respected her, snickering and making remarks. It wasn’t often but the students saw it.

“Look, that’s him!”

Hadrian didn’t turn to look who said it, but he was instantly uncomfortable. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were slowly gathering near the room for their own Potions exam, and he didn’t want to endure any judgmental looks from Weasley’s House. That must have been clear on his face because Blaise offered to walk him to Flitwick’s office and possibly find someplace to talk on their way up. After all the castle was huge, and the number of unused classrooms or alcoves was enormous.

“Let’s do it. You know how it gets when they schedule multiple exams on the same day. It chews you up, spits you out, and on the last day you’re just wondering which Hippogriff ran you over,” Michael said when he heard Blaise’s suggestion. “Maybe in the kitchens?”

“Who would want to sit in the _kitchens_ with _House Elves,_ ” Pansy asked disgusted. “Can’t we sit somewhere else?”

“Like where?” Terry asked. “In the kitchens you can at least ask for any snack or drink you want, and you’ll get it.”

Draco shrugged, somehow still managing to look elegant when Pansy stared at him like she wanted Draco to say something and back her up. That didn’t happen. Hadrian himself protested at first and still didn't complain when they finally managed to get him into the kitchen for the first time, though that may have been because he found out he could actually request coffee or something unusual for Hogwarts to eat and the elves would gladly make it. Coffee wasn’t served during any meal at the student tables, and he was stunned when Anthony told him that some students who were nice to Elves had deal with them to serve them some in the mornings. From that moment on, Draco was sold.

“Oh for Circle’s sake, go without me,” she said angrily, turning on her heel and walking toward the Slytherin common room.

“Is she still thinking she will be the next Lady Malfoy?” Anthony was always curious to hear about it. He found all the girls convinced they would be chosen and running after Draco comical. It was made especially so because Draco was embarrassed and irritated by the whole ordeal and sometimes actively hid from them.

“She is.” Draco looked like he was done with the topic, but Blaise didn’t let it go.

“I’ve heard a few rumors floating around that Lady Malfoy was talking with Lady Greengrass about matching Astoria with Draco at Lady Burke’s most recent tea party. Poor Pansy, she’s in for a nasty surprise when she hears that one...” he whispered loudly as they started walking.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Daphne said, just as done with the conversation as Draco. ‘‘Now, why don’t we change the subject to something less embarrassing for Draco here?” she said, her voice practically a coo.

“I just wish you would leave it alone,” Draco murmured, and then asked louder. “What are your thoughts about the trial? Father said Hadrian’s testimony tipped the scales beautifully. He was impressed with how you presented yourself and how well you spoke.”

“Oh right. Well, wasn’t shocked by the sentence,” Blaise told them.

“It was foreseeable, right?” Michael passed a girl from Hufflepuff, who would have bumped shoulders with him if he didn’t step to the side. He looked after her, annoyed, but she just ran to Snape’s classroom. “I mean, it’s great that Hagrid is forbidden from teaching or handling any detentions, but Dumbledore’s argument to keep him on as groundskeeper was shoddy at best. Of course he’s the best groundskeeper Hogwarts has ever had – the position didn’t exist before he came on!”

“Father proposed replacing Hagrid with Filch, but Dumbledore protested. Supposedly Hagrid is able to converse and negotiate with Centaurs and knows the Forest best,” Anthony said.

“But Dumbledore is on the probation. If something else happens in the next three years, he will be removed from his post,” Hadrian pointed out. “That’s never happened before.”

“Mother said Dumbledore looked shocked, like he didn’t believe they would do it,” Daphne added. “But the families who usually side with him weren’t happy and there are talks about an investigation in the Auror Department.”

“Tonks got a warning from her supervisor. It’s nothing too big but another one and they can throw her out of the program,” Hadrian told them. “Aunt Andromeda visited grandmother and told us,” he elaborated when they all looked at him curiously. “Tonks is one of Dumbledore’s fans, a big one, so maybe they’re thinking about bribery in the department from Dumbledore’s side? She was angry when she had to give me the statement. Her hair color kept changing during the questioning. It got more pinkish and then reddish.”

“Seriously? Unprofessional.” Anthony shook his head.

“I know, right? Grandmother told her the same. She said that the only reason she’s not filling a complain about her behavior is Tonks’ status as a trainee. All in that tone you would use to talk to a toddler.”

They all laughed. It was nice. He missed them, not only his Michael, Anthony, and Terry. How had they all wormed their way into his life?

“Does anyone remember which fruit it was?” Daphne asked. She was first one to reach the portrait. “Come on, I want a hot chocolate and cookies before I forget my own name after next eight exams!”

Hadrian didn’t forget his own name, but he was definitely tired. Transfiguration and Charms in the same day was a horrible idea, although History of Magic in the morning and Herbology in the afternoon wasn’t nice either. At least next morning was free until his Defense exam at noon and later Astronomy once it got dark. Remus hadn’t even looked his way once during two hour exam. Hadrian had no idea how to feel about that, but Astronomy was a wonderful excuse to think about it later. After that was Arithmancy by itself and Ancient Runes and Theory of Magic the next day, which finally ended the series of exams.

“I’m going to sleep for a week,” Blaise declared when they finally left their last exam and walked away from the rest of the students. Their Theory of Magic class was small, only about forty students, so all of the students sat the exam together in the same room.

“You look like you need it,” Hadrian teased. Blaise did seem very tired, although he was still just as presentable as always, with his ironed robes and shiny shoes. The only indication that he was exhausted were the shadows under his eyes.

The Care of Magical Creatures exam was still going, so it was only him and Blaise. Hadrian felt a bit unsure at the beginning, but it was the last day of the exams, so most of students were resting in the common rooms or outside. There was little to no gawking. The corridors were mostly empty as Blaise led them through them.

They were nearing the corridor that housed Flitwick’s office when Blaise loosely grabbed his wrist, leading him through a small series of turns until they were stood just outside an alcove with huge windows. He had to jump and pull himself on the wide windowsill so he could sit, which Blaise observed with amusement. Hadrian rolled eyes at him, dangling his legs slightly. Not everyone was born to be a giant. Besides, he still could grow – boys tended to have growth spurts later than girls, after all.

He didn’t protest the detour as they still had more than an hour before Flitwick would return from supervising exams, something which he’d informed Hadrian about earlier. There was no way to enter the office without his presence and Hadrian preferred to wait as the only other option was to ask McGonagall, Snape or Dumbledore. They weren’t an option and Sprout wasn’t in the castle that day, which he knew from Anemone. Sitting and talking with Blaise was a much nicer alternative. They hadn’t talked alone face to face for a very long time, and Hadrian missed it a lot. Blaise was the only other person that he would have offered one of the enchanted planners if he had more.

“You look tired as well,” Blaise pointed out and Hadrian had to raise his head to look into his eyes even when they sat beside each other. Damn, Blaise was tall. Hadrian only reached his shoulder when they were standing, and the height difference didn’t disappear just because they were sitting. “Seriously, you look tired.”

“I am. I just can’t sleep properly. I wake up at night,” he admitted. “I can’t drink Dreamless Sleep anymore.”

“And besides that? How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been taking Calming Draught for so long now, I don’t even know if I am doing better or if everything is just starting to affect me.” Hadrian answered only because Blaise seemed to genuinely care. He had no idea what was about this boy that made him feel so comfortable and safe. “Everything felt like an avalanche… The Forest, then those earings, the curse struck, and suddenly there are custody hearings, trials and negotiations between grandmother and Lord Black about how and when. It’s all over the media and for anyone to see. It’s not that bad as it could be, but I am – I had plans.”

“You knew before?”

“For some time. I suspected before but then it all was confirmed. It’s a mess.”

He must have sounded more resigned and tired than he thought he did, because Blaise reached for his hand and held it gently between them.

Hadrian stared at their joined hands for a small moment. They looked a bit like yin and yang. His skin was almost white with cold undertone and Blaise’s very dark, like ebony. The contrast was pretty. Blaise’s hands were so big, they dwarfed his own and made them look dainty. The warmth he exuded felt wonderful, too, as Hadrian tended to run cold. Sometimes his hands and feet felt like blocks of ice, but Blaise easily chased the cold away.

He could feel himself blushing when Blaise caressed his hand with his thumb. He never held hands with someone besides Anemone, Terry, Anthony, or Michael, but it did happen in public and Blaise must have pick up on it and assume that it was a source of comfort for him. It was. Besides that, it wasn’t a big deal. Almost everyone amongst his friends had, at some point, led him on their arms. What was holding hands next to that?

“At least the Black name will get you serious clout in Hogwarts corridors.”

Hadrian snorted. 

“I doubt that will help when I’m meeting my grandparents and the rest of the family the day after tomorrow.”

“Would you have to move?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they will let me stay with grandmother, maybe they will place me in the Ancestral Home or in the Black Manor. It’s going to be so odd without Anthony, Michael, and Terry, though. We have spent almost every break together since the beginning of first year.”

“You can always visit,” Blaise reminded him. “Even me, if you want to get out of Britain for a moment. We have a lot of properties in Italy or Greece. A few summerhouses by the sea as well.”

“That would be nice. I have never been anywhere outside of Britain.” Without this whole fiasco, Hadrian would have said that he would visit for sure. No one checked where he actually was during the summers, so how would anyone who could forbidden him know if he hadn’t told them?

“The Potters never took you?”

“When? James was always at work. Lily toured the world alone or with Snape, and Remus can’t leave Britain on a whim. Sirius was on the continent… We were at the Weasleys sometimes, and they never leave their house.” He wouldn’t out Remus’ status to Blaise by saying that he couldn’t leave Britain without informing the Ministry, even if he was a bit cross with him just now. It wasn’t right.

“Ah, Weasleys.” Blaise sounded disgusted. Like Draco, he had his moments where Hadrian wondered how stereotypically aristocratic one could be. They both detested the Weasleys, and while with Draco it was a blood feud, with Blaise it had to be something else. “That girl is getting on my nerve with things she says about you. The twins try to keep her in line but she’s unreformable. The prefect seems to be the only one who’s openly told her she’s wrong and to stop talking about situations she doesn’t understand. People throw silencers at her. I would gladly throw something else.”

That really shouldn’t make him feel warmer.

“Leave her. There will be talking anyway. I am not going to suddenly feel bad about doing what I did,” Hadrian told him with small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I still wonder why they don’t print opinions like that.”

“I know the answer to that one,” said Blaise and Hadrian turned to him almost completely. He tried to seem unbothered when he moved their hands to his lap so he would be more comfortable, but the knowing look on Blaise’s face and the warmth on his own proved him it didn’t work. “One of my mother’s former husbands was a good friend of Skeeter’s brother-in-law. Apparently Skeeter’s niece was one of Rowle’s victims. She probably feels like justice was served.”

“Probably,” Hadrian murmured. It was sad, but it also helped in some way. Rowle was a pedophile and a murderer. Shivers ran through him. Now he couldn’t hurt anyone. He couldn’t do anything, because Hadrian killed him. He suddenly felt sick as the image of Rowle above him with his head lolling to the side and severed throat with blood splashing everywhere popped in his head. He took one deep breath, and then another one. His face felt cold, and shivers were running through his body. He had to remind himself that everything was alright. He was with Blaise inside the castle, not in the Forest.

Blaise must have noticed the change, because he squeezed his hand slightly and slid off the windowsill carefully, his movements slow and precise.

“Breathe, it’s alright,” he said standing right in front of Hadrian. He didn’t touch him apart from their joined hands, for which Hadrian was grateful, because he had no idea how he would react. It was embarrassing enough without a full-blown panic attack. “There is only us in this dusty corridor apart from spiders. Not most wonderful location, but you know, Hogwarts. It’s not a beautiful lagoon or an ancestral palace.”

Hadrian snorted despite himself. Breathe, he could do that while focusing on where he was.

“At least there is no mold like in the dungeons.” His voice shook only a little. “Or your common room.”

“How dare you, there is no mold there,” Blaise said with a faked indignation. “That’s not what tapestries hide, not at all.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You don’t believe me? I see how it is.”

Hadrian laughed, although there was a hysteric edge to it. Blaise was normally so serious that it was strange to see him being silly. Of course, he had that laid-back attitude and smiled often, but he wasn’t the one for joking or saying pointless things.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, looking Blaise straight in the eye when he didn’t feel like he was going to panic anymore.

The bashful expression that took over Blaise’s face was cute.

“You’re embarrassed!”

“No, I am not.” The insistence in Blaise’s voice was adorable, and then he got more serious. “Hadrian, can I hug you?” he asked.

Hadrian had no clue what to say. The hug would be appreciated – he’s lacked this kind of comfort for weeks, and he felt safe with Blaise – but he felt safe with Mr. Jeremiah as well, and when he tried to touch him in the hospital, it went all wrong.

“I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully. He still felt troubled and the anxiety coiled unpleasantly. But if Blaise kept his hands away from his neck and the hold loose?

“Don’t push yourself,” Blaise said firmly, and he leaned on the edge of the windowsill. “Terry said that the physical contact helps you at times.”

“It does,” Hadrian told him, a bit torn. It was becoming awkward. Sweet Circle, such an embarrassment. “I’m just… Don’t crowd me or hold me too tight,” he warned, before he moved and leaned on Blaise. It was a slow movement, and Hadrian’s heart was beating hard. He half expected to himself to panic, but his head touched Blaise’s shoulder, and nothing terrifying had happened. Then there were warm hands embracing him in loose hold and he was pressed a bit closer to Blaise’s chest. Was Blaise breathing a bit quicker?

It was so nice to be held like that. Hadrian slowly relaxed himself. He didn’t notice that he’d tensed so much until the tension was gone. His arms were placed on the windowsill awkwardly, so he moved them to embrace Blaise as well. So, so nice. Hadrian breathed in the scent of Blaise’s magic. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, although he knew it was some kind of wood and something else that Hadrian associated with warmth and sun.

“Is it fine?” Blaise asked, and Hadrian just hummed his answer. His face felt warm. Especially after he realized he was cradled in Blaise’s arms in the alcove away from other people in a part of castle that wasn’t often used. It sounded almost helplessly stereotypical for teenagers, although Hadrian knew they weren’t doing anything.

They stood like that for a while. Neither moved. What was strange for Hadrian, he couldn’t imagine anyone but Blaise doing this for him. He wouldn’t dare to hug Draco like that, and Theodore wasn’t even a possibility. His friends’ hugs felt a bit different, and they were so used to each other that no one really paid attention or cared about leaning on one another or laying on someone else’s back when they were piling on one bed. Hadrian was almost hyperaware of every part of his body that was touching Blaise and of Blaise’s hands, his slightly boney shoulder and slowly moving chest.

Hadrian startled when quick and confident footsteps tore him from his musings. They were nearing to the alcove they were standing in.

He hadn’t moved from his place in Blaise’s arms, but he moved his head to look behind himself. There ought to be rumors that he was clinging to the boys often. Hadrian wasn’t oblivious. If Daphne sitting close to Anthony and laughing with him was worthy of whispers that they were courting, then Hadrian being led by his friends probably sparked someone’s imagination as well. They laughed about it during studying enough times for him to stop being insecure about it. One person catching him hugging someone would be nothing. Stumbling around and straightening robes would look much more suspicious and sensational. As if they were hiding something.

Blaise hadn’t pushed him away either, although when Hadrian saw who it was, he kind of wished Blaise did.

Hadrian saw Snape first, so he could see how the professor’s eyes widened before managed to hide his surprise. A professor could tell them off, so Hadrian moved away from Blaise before Snape ordered him to, and instantly missed it.

Snape. What was Snape doing on the second floor, in the west wing on the castle. There was nothing here unless Hadrian was missing something major like living quarters or the staff room. Their placement was a great unknown to students, so there were almost always rumors saying it was that floor or that corridor. The second floor was talked about a lot, but Hadrian hadn’t paid enough attention to hear why. He never had patience for something he didn’t care about.

“Mr. Zabini, Mr. Black, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, sir,” Blaise answered calmly like he wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

“It certainly doesn’t look like nothing.”

Snape hated taking the points of his own House, especially when they had a chance to win but didn’t lead by much. Hadrian wasn’t bothered by the points, but curious if Snape would take some off.

“Keep the distance,” Snape finally said with a sneer. He looked at Hadrian with so much hate and disdain that it was shocking, and then marched off.

“What is his problem?” Blaise asked clearly irritated.

“I don’t know. He’s best friends with my mother, maybe he’s taking her side,” Hadrian said. It would be quite childish if that was the reason. “She came to the Potter Manor after we left the hospital, and grandmother had to throw her out. They write to each other and travel together a lot in the summers. Some time ago he wasn’t happy I was spending time with anyone she wouldn’t approve. Told me that after classes one day.”

Hadrian was aware how it sounded. A married woman behaving like this with a man who was known to be in love with her during their Hogwarts years... Hadrian suspected that Snape still idolized his mother, but he didn’t want to think about that. It was just revolting.

Blaise, thank Circle, didn’t comment on it.

*

The Black Family meeting was a disaster.

Every single living relative was there, sans Lycoris Black, which meant a lot of explosive characters in one room. A ticking time bomb that was unnerving to observe. There were yells, insults, jabs at each other, one or two spells crashing into another person’s _protego._ Thank Mother of Magic it was at the other end of the table where the older generation was seated. No one ambushed him with the questions, but Hadrian felt eyes on him from time to time. For all off their rough housing, they were still too noble to stare, so he expected them to take more interest after the dinner when they all would move to the living room.

He was on edge from the beginning. Grimmauld Place looked exactly like the stereotypical townhouse that belonged to dark wizards from the stories Hadrian had heard in his early childhood. It was dark, gloomy, looked dangerous and expensive. The furniture in every room he had seen were tasteful shades of dark brown or black, the ornamented wallpapers might be a dark beige or dusty pink. Hadrian wasn’t sure – the light was so dim that it was hard to tell.

The rooms would have looked overwhelming if it weren't for the magic.

It was wonderful. It filled every room, saturated the walls. Certainly it wasn’t like Hogwarts, where he could see it but wasn’t able to feel it. Certain rooms in the Corner’s or Goldstein’s Manors were similar in that aspect, but they hadn’t called to him like this. Really, it was like coming home. Relaxing, reassuring and gentle. It was one of the few rare instances where the magic in the building had a smell of its own. It dampened every other scent, but it wasn’t intrusive. Some kind of conifers. Was it the family magic?

The ridiculous amount of magic in the walls and windows indicated that the Blacks were much more paranoid than James could even hope to be. The thick layer of wards, spells and curses created a powerful barrier between it and muggle London. Creating a hole in them would be probably impossible if someone attacked from the outside. And who in the right mind would attack in the middle of a muggle street? It was probably one of the reasons that the townhouse was 20 minutes from the King’s Cross Station. Hadrian wouldn’t be surprised if no one apart from the Blacks was aware that Number 12 Grimmauld Place existed. The neighbors for sure had no idea. 

There was no other Black close to his age, the closest was Regulus, who was seated next to him with exasperated expression on his face. Sirius was also there, on Hadrian’s left side, but they hadn’t spoken even once.

It was ridiculous. Sirius arrived few minutes after Hadrian and had barely looked in his direction. He gave his leather jacket to the House Elf and marched into the dining room, sitting on the last free seat. They hadn’t even greeted each other and it was clear that Sirius would prefer to be literally anywhere else. Hadrian wanted to say something so badly but he didn’t have the strength to argue. He would blow up for sure, and seeing how few comments it took from Druella to Irma Black to make them both start casting boiling curses at one another… Hadrian decided it would probably be better to just be just petty and ignore Sirius’ presence. If one of them had to mature, it could be him.

Of course, Bellatrix picked up on that along with Narcissa, who already looked tired. Bellatrix _winked_ at him. It seemed as though this whole situation was a great entertainment for her. Eating in the silence and still being the highlight of the evening, such a wonderful role.

“Hadrian, I heard from Draco that you are expecting to receive an Outstanding in Ancient Runes? From what I was told, it’s a great accomplishment with Master Babbling,” Narcissa said with polite curiosity. “How do you feel about the exams this year?”

“I expect mostly Outstandings and maybe one or two Exceeds Expectations,” he said truthfully. “I can’t be too sure with Professor Babbling’s exam, but it wasn’t much different from the worksheets she expected us to complete. I am a bit worried about Potions, though I still expect an Exceeds Expectations. Arithmancy was tricky, I think the professor was trying out a new form of the test, and Theory of Magic was an essay. We had to draw a topic and complete the required length.”

“Three additional subjects?” Narcissa seemed impressed.

“I couldn’t decide and my grades allowed it. One subject doesn’t make that much of a difference, and I am enjoying them. I like challenging material. Professor Avery is always open to discuss anything we want and the class is very small. Professor Babbling is peculiar but her creativity is astonishing, and Professor Vector gives us practical tasks and doesn’t stay just theoretical.” His classes were a good topic. That he could talk about.

“Oh, that reminds me! Hadrian, what did you like Rabastan’s present? He was certainly worried about his thanks for looking after your cousin.” Bellatrix just had to. Hadrian could see out of the corner of his eyes how Sirius stiffened. His fork had literally stopped midair.

“ _Old Magic and Rituals, Theoretical Commentary,_ Apollinaire de Foix, an excellent choice. It explained why I’m so sensitive to rituals and was very interesting read indeed, Aunt,” he replied. Sirius nearly flinched at _aunt_ , which was quite funny. Even more so to Bellatrix apparently, as she smiled sharply. Both Bellatrix and Narcissa allowed him to call them that. Cousin twice-removed was a long title and both of them were at least twenty years older than him.

“Lord Corner extended invitation this summer as well?” Narcissa asked.

“Of course. He also expressed his understanding if I chose not to perform the ritual with them.”

“And you’ve been performing rituals for how long?” Sirius asked tightly.

“Since the summer break after my first year. I am usually spending Lughnasadh with the Corners and Yule with the Goldsteins. They taught me a lot,” Hadrian explained, aware that the attention of whole table was now on them. “I have been performing daily rituals for several months now. It helps with the curse and calms my mind. Magic comes easier to me after, as well.”

“It does. Do your ability to see magic also help?” Regulus asked at the exact same moment that Lord Black raised himself and ordered the oldest House Elf Hadrian had ever seen to bring finger food and wine to the sitting room.

“Certainly. I see what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. I see the magic in general and sometimes through it, so I have an advantage,” Hadrian said while they moved. He kept to the back, letting the elders exit first. Sirius was the last one, probably deliberately, although he didn’t have any choice either. The Blacks moved almost like one unit, and Hadrian was maneuvered inside of the group with Regulus seamlessly. Narcissa walked maybe three or four steps behind them and Bellatrix expertly cut off Sirius, almost shouldering him in the process.

“Boring! We already know that our Rian is impossibly smart. No, you’ll tell you aunties what you’re able to do wandlessly instead, isn’t that right? Better yet, show us! I heard about that wandless _protego_ ,” Bellatrix said enthusiastically, sitting him down between herself and Regulus. Narcissa perched elegantly on an upholstered bench, leaving Sirius no other choice that sit beside her uncomfortably.

It didn’t take him long to notice, but he had spent a while on trying to understand what he saw. Bellatrix in public and Bellatrix in private were two completely different people… or more. While she was composed, arrogant and every ounce of the pureblood to everyone outside of the family, she changed the moment the door was closed – and keep on changing. She seemed like a different person every few minutes. Her moods changed dramatically, and no one could even call it jumping from one extreme to another, because one second she was mischievous, next sarcastic and cutting and then borderline obsessive, impatient and loud. If that was the famous Black Madness, Hadrian was glad he missed out on it.

“Are you sure? Maybe it was a fluke,” Cygnus Black said, his lips curling into a sneer. Hadrian only knew it was him because he kept to his wife, and she looked like an older version of Narcissa. No one introduced themselves, so they were either attempting to snub him or they expected him to know who was who. It was hard to say, but at least no one was hostile towards him. Rude? Of course, but Hadrian didn’t expect anything else. “Maybe – ”

Hadrian interrupted him by casting _lumos_ , and then another one. He played around by manipulating the brightness and making the balls of light move around, and then he finished that little show with _nox._ It was a simple thing he liked to do while he mulled over what he had read. A bit like those muggle toys to manipulate with fingers.

“I like to do this when I’m thinking,” Hadrian said to Bellatrix. “It’s simple enough that I don’t have to concentrate on it. I think I can cast majority of spells that I learned at Hogwarts this way and few others like anti-theft charms. I’m still testing the boundaries.”

“Finally, something to be proud of,” Walburga said and Hadrian had to watch his expression carefully so he didn’t show his astonishment. She was actually smiling happily! That made her look almost approachable. “Ravenclaw, the House of scholars, but clearly he has a lot cunning in him. Hat-stall, darling? It must be,” she continued not waiting for his reply. “Blacks were always known for their intellect. I’m telling you, brother, we can expect great things from my grandson. He wields magic so elegantly and has interest in cultivating it! Mother Magic must love him.”

Hadrian could tell that Sirius was on the verge of saying something.

“He still stole a child from the Potters, daughter,” Pollux Black told Walburga. Hadrian’s _great-grandfather._ He looked very similar to Arcturus but much more tired. He had this permanently irritated facial expression and enormous bushy brows in addition to a long beard. He and Walburga looked very alike but Cygnus wasn’t dissimilar himself. They all, apart from the standard Black features, had small faces, deep set eyes and larger noses, which made everything look rather intense and almost squished together on their faces. “If he wished us to wed him to the Potter’s son, he could have said so. Instead he tainted our blood with that of a muggle. For what? For an eye color? Did he wish for a triad? With such panache he could take the boy’s sister as well.”

“James is your nephew, Pollux. If this is good enough for a marriage, then you could call yourself a Crabbe or a Gaunt and inbreed yourself to squibhood,” Dorea said, which made Pollux glare at her. His wife, Irma, was a Crabbe. Sweet Circle, he was related to Crabbe in some way.

“Face it, your grandson is my great-grandson even without their marriage, and nothing is wrong with his magic. I dare to say that he seems to be more promising that your foolish son and the useless spawn here.”

Oh dear. His grandmother was a sister of one of his great-grandfathers. That realization was disgusting at its best. And there still were more incestuous families? What was wrong with some wizards and witches?

“Stolen or not, his blood was purified. He might have kept the eyes but everything about him screams good breeding. A beautiful boy like Regulus! He’s making us more proud than his poor excuse of a father ever did!” Walburga was quick to say. Orion only nodded. The whole evening he’d remained silent. He seemed indifferent to everything that was going on, like a handsome marble statue. Seeing him, Hadrian knew exactly why Sirius and Regulus were so good looking themselves. Orion was truly a massive man. He had broad shoulders and was easily the tallest wizard Hadrian had ever seen, towering over everyone. Six foot seven or eight, maybe? Hadrian had no idea.

“Which one?” Pollux snorted.

Bellatrix cackled when Sirius suddenly sat straighter. A stinging hex? Looking at Narcissa, who maintained a perfect poker face, Hadrian decided it was definitely possible. Her wand was sticking out from a wide sleeve of her maroon dress robe.

“I think before any duels we need to address the dragon in the room,” Lord Black said, eyeing Sirius like he expected him to start throwing curses any moment, and then giving Walburga and Cygnus the same look. “Hadrian’s healer deemed him completely recovered. Hadrian here already completed his end of the year exams, which means that we have to decide about his accommodations and how to re-introduce him to the society. We are Blacks, and we _will_ present a united front. Hadrian is now the youngest member of our clan, ours to guide and teach. What’s more, Hadrian is touched with the Isolation Curse, which in his case is rather severe.”

Lord Black must have spoken with everyone already, as he wasn’t explaining how Hadrian come to be a Black, what had truly happened, and no one asked about it. That made sense, although Hadrian was aware that the whole wizarding world had a good idea what had happened because of the trials and Lord Black taking his custody from the Potters. It made him feel more vulnerable that he would like.

“Hadrian is already known as a close friend of heirs Goldstein and Corner. He partook in Lughnasadh and Yule Rituals with them, so we should probably extend our hand. Were you invited somewhere this summer as well?” he suddenly asked Hadrian.

“Yes, to the Corners, and then Blaise Zabini invited me to spend some time in Italy with his family,” Hadrian said. Maybe if he mentioned Blaise now, he would be able to visit. The Zabinis were an Ancient House in Italy with a long history, so Hadrian doubted it would be an instant ‘no’, if there wasn’t anything more important.

“Blaise Zabini as the son of Lady Hortencia Zabini?” Sirius asked. He seemed horrified and stunned at the same time.

“We haven’t had good relations with the Zabinis for a very long time,” Pollux said wistfully. “It may be a wonderful chance.”

“He could poison him! Kill him there!” Sirius hissed, his eyes flashing. His hands clenched so hard on the cutlery, that his knuckles were white. “It’s like a sport for them. ‘To dine with a Zabini is to smile at the spider as she eats you whole’. That little phrase ringing any bells? Who knows what is going on in that boy’s head!”

“If he wanted to kill me, he’s had a whole year for it. He hasn’t poisoned anything he gave me, and he lets me use his calming draught when I am stressed. What’s more, it would be incredibly moronic for him to try it. Letting me fall down the stairs would be simpler, less suspicious, and he had a countless number of occasions to do that,” Hadrian told him firmly. Lady Zabini probably killed her husbands, and Hadrian would be a bit uncomfortable dining with her, but Blaise never gave him any reason to be wary of him. Maybe he was foolish, but Hadrian felt oddly offended every time someone told him to not let his guard down in Blaise’s company. “He has been a part of my study group for a year, and it means that he sometimes has to lead me when the curse strikes. I have one class in particular where he is only person from our friend group present. I’m usually on his arm and lead down or up the stairs every other week. Nothing has happened. I spend an hour and a half with him alone after our Theory of Magic exam, sitting on the windowsill, and he didn’t try anything. I would appreciate if you stopped accusing my good friends whom you have never met, Sirius.”

Pollux murmured something under his breath, and Walburga looked first at Pollux, then at Hadrian as if she was considering something. Hadrian had a feeling he knew what Pollux said, but would greatly prefer if the topic of a marriage was forgotten for a while. Knowing his luck and impending fourteenth birthday, it wouldn’t be.

“Why would you walk around on someone’s arm?!” Sirius asked, rearing back in shock. His eyes were wide, and in Hadrian opinion, he looked dumb.

Hadrian looked at Sirius like he was a bit slow on the uptake. He couldn’t help himself. One of their relatives laughed, Bellatrix snorted loudly, and Regulus lifted his hand from the armrest to his temple.

“Because I don’t like falling down the stairs,” he said slowly. How the only thing that Sirius got from all Hadrian said was the mention of walking on someone’s arm was beyond him. Sirius was raised with Regulus – he should know what the curse was like! “I get lost in my mind. I’m not exactly aware that there are stairs, students or corners in front of me. For that reason, my friends try to ensure that there is always someone with me. When that’s happening, pulling me by the hand is childish and not practical. Holding my arm seems suspicious and gathers attention. Leading me on their arm looks the most natural. At the worst, someone will think that I’m very traditional and know my preference,” Hadrian said. He didn’t manage to keep his irritation from his voice completely, but it wasn’t very noticeable.

Honestly, if that helped him survive Hogwarts without falling down and killing himself, then so be it. Hadrian didn’t feel bothered by being on another boy’s arm. And if someone thought him odd because of it, then they clearly weren’t in the wizarding world long enough. Maybe it was very traditional way of carrying yourself and many people understood it as positioning oneself in less dominant position, but that wasn’t Hadrian’s problem. He hadn’t even considered it from that point of view.

Sirius looked at him like he was seeing him for a first time. And maybe he was, because this was the first serious conversation they had in years.

“His case is certainly worse than mine,” Regulus said. “I’m aware my mind is slipping, so I can take precautions.”

“For me it’s almost like natural transition,” Hadrian said, nodding his head. “I rarely notice anything. The best anyone can do is lead me somewhere and let me bring myself back to the present.”

“So there is no warning?” Pollux asked.

“Not really. My mind just slips. I can easily slip away and think only about current events or spells from the course book, and then realize I wasn’t there for twenty minutes.”

“The attacks are daily occurrence?” Cassiopeia asked. Those were the first words Hadrian heard from her that evening. She’d been talking with Lord Black earlier, but she was so far from Hadrian that he couldn’t make out exact words. Of course, Hadrian noticed her and quickly figured out who she was. Androgynous yet still very similar to his grandmother, with curly hair cropped short with an undercut, wearing an elegant charcoal suit… Cassiopeia Black was hard to miss.

“No. There could be a few in a day, and then nothing for a week. It’s very irregular, although when I am performing rituals regularly, they are shorter and more manageable.”

“My sister assured us that you have a proper knowledge, but I think it would be better if I could check which rituals are you performing and how. Maybe there are better ones,” she said in a tone that suggested it wasn’t to be questioned, looking at Hadrian, and then at Lord Black. “Maybe we manage to give him some of the independence back. With whom will he stay?”

“With us, of course! Grimmauld Place is a large house. There are plenty of empty rooms,” Walburga said eagerly, and Hadrian’s heart dropped a bit. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but he didn’t want it.

“I decided on the Black Manor. Hadrian needs to learn about the family and it would do him good to follow me through my day and in Wizengamot. I know that it’s early, but it would show our acceptance and guardianship,” Lord Black said calmly.

Pollux nodded.

“We need to present a united front,” he said. “He’s fourteen, it’s not too early. And there is a huge ritual room for Cassiopeia and him to use.”

“I could also check that he meets the Black family standards. Hogwarts is Hogwarts, but their curriculum leaves a lot to be desired and they miss a lot of spells that should be automatic for him one day. Dueling lessons would be needed as well, so Hadrian knows how to properly duel.”

Hadrian perked up at Cassiopeia’s words. Learning from her would be like a dream come true.

“Shouldn’t Hadrian live with me?” Sirius interrupted their discussion. He had this expression on his face that told Hadrian he could start yelling or throwing accusations any second. He probably would if it wasn’t Cassiopeia and Lord Black he was currently speaking to. He seemed to have a healthy dose of reluctant respect for them.

“Where? Alone in your flat in a forgotten-by-magic village in Oxford?” Lord Black asked, raising his brow. “Alone for months? Or like a homeless nomad with his friends? Or maybe he would stay with your friends? Would you ask Dorea? Probably not. Your pet werewolf that teaches in Hogwarts? If he will even talk with you. Maybe Andromeda, whose daughter tried to cover up Dumbledore’s crimes?”

Hadrian mentally cringed. No one here would stop themselves before Sirius had enough, and Hadrian felt like their relationship was already on a razor’s edge. He wasn’t sure if Sirius wouldn’t take offense at his lack of protest. After all, Sirius spend a large portion of his life separating himself from the Blacks and rebelling against nearly everything they stood for. He could expect Hadrian to do the same, either because he was raised in James’ home or just because.

Hadrian felt like at any moment now he would be dragged into this conversation. Especially when Walburga seemed ready to throw herself and her wand at Sirius, and Lord Black didn't look like he wanted to argue, and he certainly wasn’t willing to change his mind. Regulus had his wand half out of its holder. Cygnus and Narcissa looked resigned, and Pollux sipped his tea as if there were a perfectly normal afternoon with completely normal relatives. At least Bellatrix was having the time of her life, her smile wide and bloodthirsty.

“I am his father!”

Hadrian had hope that Sirius wouldn’t pull out _this_ card. Yes, technically Sirius was his father, but almost all his life Hadrian had known him as his godfather, a family friend. It was hard to think about him differently. He’d been allowed to call Sirius by name since he could remember, and even when Sirius lived in England he was never like a father figure. Not even close. Then Sirius suddenly wasn’t in Britain and they rarely ever saw each other. Hadrian stared Hogwarts and their only contact with each other was via monthly letters about unimportant things. Even those were sometimes very hard to write, because Hadrian could include everything he wanted in one paragraph and end it there. If Hadrian didn’t talk with Remus, he wouldn’t know about their breakup. Sirius has still never said anything about it. What was worse, Sirius never said anything about the Forest. He didn’t even ask how Hadrian felt and how the recovery went.

_He didn’t answer Hadrian’s last letter and behaved like nothing was ever sent._

Hadrian was afraid that if someone offered an outlet for Hadrian’s suppressed feelings, he would take it. Saying what he felt right to Lily’s face emboldened him, and the relief that followed showed him that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Only in this case, Hadrian felt oddly torn. Sirius was the only person from his childhood, apart from Anemone, that didn’t hate him openly and didn’t want to hurt him. In Sirius’ mind, fighting with the rest of the Blacks about Hadrian’s accommodations was a form of protecting him from them. Hadrian could bet that Sirius thought they would make Hadrian cast awful spells and push him towards the darkest magic. At the same time, Hadrian was sure that Sirius didn’t think it through, didn’t have any plan and at best would be trying to place him with someone else or like Lord Black said, let him spend the summer with his friends. If Hadrian was younger, even by just a few years, it would seem like the best thing ever. Now however, it could do more harm than good.

Sirius never been in the same situation as Hadrian. He always had someone he could turn to, money and protection to fall back on. If Hadrian rejected the Blacks now, he would have no one to shield him from the Potters.

“Some father you are!” Pollux said dismissively.

“You certainly never acted like it and still aren’t,” Dorea told Sirius firmly. “You didn’t contact him after Hadrian sent you a letter informing you what had happened. You probably already knew about it from papers before you even received the post. Nothing, Sirius. And today? I watched you, boy. You haven’t uttered a word to him. Don’t call yourself his father.”

“And you’re any better?!” Sirius demanded incredulously. “You haven’t talked to him since he was six or seven!”

“I made a mistake. I admitted to it and we talked about it. We have been repairing our relationship since the beginning of April. And I was there with him, Sirius, and I would be even if we didn’t get in contact sooner! What have you to say for yourself? Any confessions?” The venom was dripping from the words. “A bit over month ago Rowle and Crouch nearly killed two of my grandchildren. Hadrian is thirteen. Anemone twelve. And you are acting like you don’t care! He slept nearly eighteen hours per day for a week. He wasn’t able to walk for two. He had to take breaks on the stairs, in the middle of the corridors and couldn’t cast anything for three! And still you never said a word to him! That’s what a father does, Sirius? That? Some father you are. Almost like James. And do you know what James did? He hit him, Sirius. He broke his cheekbone and then left him in his room with a concussion, and neither helped nor checked on him!”

The room was deadly silent.

It was terrifying. Hadrian could feel their fury, and it was a strange experience. If James Potter was there with them, he wouldn’t be leaving in one piece.

And then Bellatrix started, startling already tightly wound Hadrian.

“That bastard dared touch my little cousin! That fucking barbarian! I WILL TEAR HIS LIMBS APART ONE BY ONE UNTIL HE BLEEDS HIMSELF TO DEATH!” She was screaming so loudly that Hadrian wanted to run away, but she was holding his forearm in a firm grip, as if she was afraid he was going to vanish. Her anger was probably fueled by the Madness Curse. Her father silenced her after a few more screams, and it took a moment for her to realize it.

“Dear sister, we can clearly deal with it without any bloodshed,” Narcissa said, trying to reason with still furious Bellatrix. She clearly wanted to say more but Bellatrix shook her head.

She was still holding Hadrian, which gave him something else to focus on. He didn’t want to be a part of this conversation. She started swaying a bit and was saying something that he couldn’t hear without removing the spell. And then she turned. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, and she looked at his face, as if she was searching for an injury. The fact that there was none seemed to calm her down. The tight grip loosened; she petted his arm slowly instead. Then she took one deep breath, and was back to normal. Hadrian cancelled the spell on her wandlessly, which was awarded with a smile and a pat on his hand.

“How could I know about it if no one told me!” Sirius seemed to have regained his voice again, leaping dynamically to his feet. “Hadrian could have told me!”

“Maybe if you made sure that he knew he could tell you, he would have! But no, of course, blame the victim for your mistakes!” Dorea said sharply. She wouldn’t listen to it passively. Cassiopeia was right behind her, backing her up, and the two sisters made a striking pair even in their seventies and eighties. If Lycoris, Lord Black’s sister, wasn’t working with a big curse breaking project, she would be standing alongside them, from what his grandmother told him about her family.

The fact that Sirius stood alone while everyone eyed him with wands at the ready spoke volumes.

“Maybe let us untangle the mess you made and go back to gallivanting through Europe, child,” Cassiopeia said. It was amazing how no one questioned her. Not even Walburga. “You have stolen another man’s child and given us a new heir. Don’t even think for a moment that I won’t petition moving the title from you to him. Just from him sitting here quietly and observing I can tell that he has more potential to lead our family than you ever had. We will even care for his sister, as no scion of a Black should be left alone.”

“Where is Anemone?” Sirius asked, as if it was only in this moment, that he realized she was a part of it all.

“I took over her upbringing,” Dorea cut in, her voice like steel. There was no point in telling Sirius where she was or that Anemone invited Astoria Greengrass over. It would start another pointless discussion.

Sirius was at lost. Hadrian could see it in his face. He really had nothing to say. Hadrian didn’t wish for much, just for some explanation or acknowledgment, and instead of that there was _and what did you do_ thrown all around the room, diverting attention from him. A lot of people did nothing. Either because Hadrian wouldn’t let them or because they weren’t there. The main difference between his grandmother and Sirius, who both had a place in the second group, was that his grandmother sat him down and apologized. They talked for a very long time, and after that they actively tried to mend their relationship. Sirius just showed up and thought everything was fine.

Hadrian just began to see that it really wasn’t fine. That he deserved apologies, explanations or some form of admitting to the mistakes. He had feelings he shouldn’t ignore, and in the last month, especially this day, Sirius hurt them.

“Do you want me to take you from them?” Sirius asked suddenly, looking straight at him, and it was the exact thing Hadrian was afraid of.

Talking over his head and making decisions about his living arrangements was fine. Hadrian was aware he was at the bottom of the hierarchy, and although his wants and concerns would be taken into account, the final decision wouldn’t be up to him.

What wasn’t fine was asking him questions like that in front of everyone in the _middle_ of a heated and emotional argument. What did Sirius want to accomplish? Was he trying to play on his emotions? Hadrian couldn’t say ‘yes’, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. Staying with the Blacks wasn’t optional. They offered a lot, even if they would probably request just as much in return.

“No, I don’t,” he said, trying his best not to curl in himself. Looking at him now, he had the impression that Sirius' expression would haunt him for a very long time. He wished he didn’t feel so guilty about it…

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! ;)


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